Sisters: The Fourth Quarter Quell
by jds2416
Summary: What if the rebellion had failed? What if harsher Hunger Games were still in place? When Auri Sae and her mentally and physically disabled sister are both sent in for the fourth Quarter Quell, they must face the fact that only one of them will make it home, and one will die at the hands of another child.
1. Chapter 1

"Auri, get up!" My mother's voice shakes me out of my dreams. "The reaping is in an hour!"

She then moves across our one-room apartment to cook breakfast. I stretch and yawn, putting my barefeet on the dirty cement floor. Shivering with cold, I hurriedly walk to the clothes she layed out.

I am Auri Bobbin Sae. I live in district eight, in hunger and poverty, with my three siblings and mother.

Emalia, who is five, is the shyest, sweetest little thing. She never gets upset, and is always quiet.

Gillian, who is eight, is the exact opposite. She screams when she wants something, she screams when she gets something, she always complains and never shuts up, but she, with her red hair and attitude, has always been a joy to have around, with her beautiful singing voice and musical quality.

Then there's Mint, who is thirteen. Mint is slightly wrong in the head. No one knows exactly why, we'd have to be as rich as capitol citizens to find out why, and well, we aren't. She's as bright as a summer's day, and can only speak with her hands. Although she does it awkwardly and clumsily, it's enough to help us understand. She can't feed herself or walk. She can't move, she's paralyzed. But we love her so much.

Mother is something else. She's wonderful, kind, hardworking, and sweet. She can sing like no other, and tries her best to keep us happy. She detests the capital with all her being, and would do anything to bring it down. Mother panics each year on the reaping, worried one of us will go to die.

Today is the reaping for the 100th annual hunger games. The twist is that three girls and one boy will be reaped from each district, because 'it reminds us that the women of the Dark Days could not be saved or save themselves, and not even a man could protect them from the Capitol'. That means myself and Mint are fair game, as well as the whole thing being sexist.

I trudge out of bed, my heart pounding. I scrub myself clean and put on the pink dress I made. Then I braid my dark blonde hair straight down my back. I finish all too soon, and still have forty-five minutes to spare. So I make Mint beautiful as well.

I wake her up quickly, and carry her to the tub, which rests across the room. There, I peel off her grimy nightgown, put some water in it, boil the water, and then scoop her up in my strong arms.

"Aack!" she screeches with delight as she is lowered into the warm water. Her legs kick out, and her arms flail. I smile and begin to gently scrub her. When the dirt and filth has finally left her thin frame, and dry her off and put her in a pale green dress, tie back her messy hair, and put lace socks on her feet.

"You know what today is, right honey?" I brush a wisp of mousy blonde hair out of her eyes.

Mint's smile isn't a sign for 'reaping', so she thinks a bit, and then before my eyes, makes one. _read,_ She signs. _ping. _Her 'ping' is the sign for rain, and along with it, she makes a little 'ping' noise.

"And you know what that means, Mint?" I hold her tightly.

_Girls go. Boy go. _She scrunches her brow.

"Do you know where?"

She doesn't respond, just stares at me with her green eyes, one slightly out of whack.

"Okay, let's just go." I decide not to push it.

I pick her up. Even at seventeen, even though she only weighs about eighty pounds at age thirteen, I still have trouble carrying her.

Gillian and Emalia are up, both neat as pins. Mother trudges into the room, looking both me and Mint up and down.

"I see you got Mint all cleaned up. Thank you Auri." She runs her fingers through Mint's newly fresh mousy blonde locks.

"You're welcome." I smile and kiss her cheek, surprised to find tears glistening in her eyes.

"Oh fine then." Mother bites her lips, and starts to turn back around, but instead engulfs Gillian, Emalia, Mint, and I in a huge hug.

Surprised, we stand there.

"Oh God, what've I done! I'm so sorry girls! I'm so sorry!" She begins to sob.

"Mother!" I start at her pale, bony, grief-stricken face. "What's going on?"

She stares at me, her chest heaving with despair. Then, in a barely audible whisper, she says,

"I stole."

"So what?" Everyone steals. I look at her, completely forgetting about Mint, Gillian, and Emalia. What the heck is happening?

"And I got caught."

Before I can do or say anything, the whole story tumbles out of her as if she couldn't hold it in any longer.

"I was fired the other day-"

"Oh God."

"But that's not it. I was fired," she repeats, walking over to our bed, pulling me with her. "But I didn't want you to worry. So for over three months now I've been unemployed. And I couldn't find a job. So I stole. At first little things, like hair ribbons and tiny packages of grain. But then some person noticed my knack for it. Someone who needed someone to blend in and steal secrets. A rebel."

Here I gasp, and calmly shepard Emalia and Gillian out the door, telling them to go to Lace's house. I sit Mint in her wooden wheelchair and send her out too.

Lace is my one and only friend. I'm much too focused on taking care of the family to do anything else. She, unlike us, is an only child. She lost both her parents in a factory fire, and lives alone. She is beautiful, unlike me. Her hair is long and red and straight. She has high cheekbones, a beautiful complexion, and is slim from hunger, but her body still has its curves. She is the envy of every girl, including me. We're friends because we are the only girls who dropped full time out of school to work. Others do jobs, but they also attend school, on weekends, or at night. She is always happy to babysit for Emalia, Gillian, and Mint, so I send them there now.

I then turn around and sit down, listening attently to Mother's tale.

"He asked me to steal plans from the Head Peacekeeper's office, plans to get more transportation. He thought that if we had them, we could catch the Capitol in a moment of vulnerability and bring them down. I was foolish. I said I would. And then,"

She gives a sob.

"I was caught. But President Snow-"

"Snow!" My eyes widen. Snow visited my mother?

"Yes. Snow. He said that I could go unpunished. I was shocked. But then he said my daughter wouldn't. You'll be reaped. I know you will, and it will be all my fault."


	2. Chapter 2

She breaks down.

"Mother," I say slowly. "Who was the rebel?"

She sits up, her green eyes flashing with red iron anger.

"That," Her icy voice contrasting with her hot rage. "I do know."

She pauses, straightening up, flicking the hair out of her eyes, and looking at me full on.

"Primrose Mellark." She spits out the name like a curse.

"Katniss and Peeta's daughter?" Ice runs through my veins.

Katniss and Peeta were the two people who led the second Revolution. We detest any relation of theirs. You see, they were both executed after it was over, after the late President Cornelius Snow's grandson, Ephellius Snow, our president today, came back to power.

Katniss and Peeta had already had two children, thinking they were safe. The son, Haymitch Finnick Mellark, was five years old, couldn't escape, and was captured. He was brutally murdered in front of the two parents. The daughter, Primrose Rue Mellark, escaped, being thirteen and quite competent with a bow.

She became a rebel, a fighter, moving so quickly from district to district, changing identities and her looks, that not even the Capitol, who knew she was out there, could capture her. She organized a revolution group in each district to avenge her parents and brother, calling them The Mockingjays. For what reason we don't know. She is still young, being born when the eightieth Hunger Games would have been, and living undisturbed until the ninety-third happened. She is only twenty. It has been seven years since harsher Hunger Games have begun. Seven years. I was ten when Katniss and Peeta were finally caught.

We hate Katniss so much because our grandmother, my mother's mother, Twill, and our good friend, Bonnie, tried to escape district eight. The succeeded, but unwillingly had to leave my Mother behind. She received news of what happened.

Katniss Everdeen gave them food, and then left them to go to District 13. Every district 13 citizen was murdered after the second uprising, and my mother and everyone else everywhere was forced to watch it. But anyways, there was one when Grandma was going there with Auntie Bonnie. Then they were captured in the forest and turned into avoxes.

Flashback:

_**Twill**_

"_How did you find us?"_

_The man who was preparing to take out my tongue stared at me. Then with a devilish smile, he said,_

"_Katniss Everdeen."_

_I screamed to Bonnie, hoping that the poor child would understand, hoping that someday, after all of this was over, we could avenge that Katniss Everdeen, the one who so highly we once thought of. _

_And then I fall asleep, and when I wake up, I can't speak._

_**Bonnie**_

_I receive the message in my cell, hearing Twill's shrieks. _

_Oh my. Will Katniss ever get it. _

_Then I remember, she seemed so eager to help us. I don't misjudge people. That man was messing with poor Twill's mind. I will let the world know the truth._

_If I am ever able to speak again, that is._

_I can do this. _

_**Caesar Flickerman**_

_Hmmm…_

_I'm deep in thought. That child Bonnie will make an excellent interview before the take out her tongue. Gosh I'm getting too old for this. Ninety-five and still in the business._

_I prep my midnight blue jacket and then jog out on stage, bowing to applause left and right._

'_Now for our special interview," I grin. "Please welcome Bonnie Hydle!"_

_The girl marches on stage, in a yellow dress, and her personality clashing with its sunny tone. _

"_Its Bonnie Sae now." she lifts her chin up. "To honor Twill."_

"_Your Mother?" I smile. _

"_No Caesar. The closest thing I ever had to a Mother. The one you made shut up because she did something that you thought she deserved Hell for."_

_I flinch inwardly, at the accusation, at the crude wording. But Twill deserved what she got. _

"_Well, my dear-"_

"_Not your dear." She sniffs._

"_Well Bonnie," I try again. "Anything to tell on that?"_

"_Yes. She thinks Katniss turned us in, but I know better."_

_Oh. The story of how she was captured. Well, I'll have to relay this to her family. _

_But what's the fun in making it true?_

_I'll twist it a little. _

_**Thistle, Peacekeeper**_

"_Yes, I'm so sorry, Katniss killed your mother."_

_It wasn't fun telling her that Katniss turned the girl's mother in. _

_So I, being the one to actually relay the news, decided that Katniss would brutally murder the now Avox. _

_The girl, probably nineteen or so, stares at me._

_I leer right back at her, and becoming bored, toy with ideas of how it could have, if it actually did, which it didn't, happened. _

_Hmm. _

"_She took her knife, and while Bonnie, the child, was knocked out, she-"_

_Crack._

_That girl slapped me. What an idiot._

"_I could let that slide," I wink. "If you'll do a little something for me."_

_I pull her closer to me, hinting at what I mean. _

_Her eyes widen with fear? Regret? Acceptance?_

_Crack._

_Oh. Anger. I've never been good at reading emotions. _

_I'm down on the ground and she's gone. _

_Pity._

_I never learned her name. _

_**Willow, Auri's mother**_

_Dead. Gone. Passed. _

_Murdered._

_My beautiful mother. _

_No. _

_Katniss Everdeen will be hearing from me. _

We later received news that Bonnie, who had become an avox, was killed by lizard mutts during the second revolution.

And Katniss killed Grandma.

We hate her, her descendants, and anyone who ever stands up for her. Many see her as a symbol of hope, but we just want to kill her.

Thank you President Snow.

So why Mother didn't kill Primrose Mellark on sight I just don't know.

"Mommy, why-"

"Because I didn't recognize her. Because she made a good point before I realized who she was."

I watch her for a minute. Us both staring at eachother. I want to be mad, but I can't. She was just trying to help everyone, including me. So I remain where I am and watch her.

It's peaceful.

But it can't last.

"I love you," I hug her tightly. "It's okay, I might not be reaped."

"Come home to me Auri. Come home." She ignores the last words of my sentence.

She strokes my hair, and suddenly I feel like I'm five again, wanting to crawl into her lap and hide from the world. Hide as she sings and rocks me to sleep.

I know I can't, so I grip her forearms and act like the young lady she's raised me to be.

"I promise Mommy.."

A promise is a solemn oath, a thing you shouldn't break, something you shouldn't offer unless you can do it.

I can't.

But we both needed some hope to cling to, something to make us feel okay, to save us from despair. So I did it.

And now I might not be able to keep it.


	3. Chapter 3: Our reaping

"Heavens, Auri!" Mother springs up, rushes me to the door, runs to Rose's and grabs Gillian and Emalia by the hands. "Look at the time!"

Seven minutes is all we have to get there. Okay, okay. We can do this.

"I'll take Mint to get checked in and I'll get checked in with her, you take-" I am interrupted.

"Fine!" Mother whisks off Gillian and Emalia, and I run to the town square, pushing Mint as I go.

"Bye Lace!" I call over my shoulder. She still has time, whereas we have a whole family to get there.

The young women working the check-in area looks like a robot. Brown hair, grey eyes, muscular, methodical, monotone. She beckons my sister and I forward.

"Name." She directs the question at me.

"Auri."

"Full name."

Fine.

"Aurabelle Bobbin Sae."

"Hand." Her fingers make sharp movements.

I hold it out and only wince slightly as the needle takes liquid rubies from my fingertips. She presses the blood to a paper, scans it, and looks back to me.

"You may go stand with the other seventeen year old girls."

I wrinkle my nose. I'm not leaving Mint with The Robot.

"If you don't mind," I look her in the eye, polite as possible. "I would like to stay with my sister as she gets HER finger pricked."

Robot rolls her eyes.

"Fine."

She then turns to Mint.

"Name."

Mint cocks her head, and then signs, _Lisle Mint Sae. Who are you?_

The Robot looks up at me, exasperated already.

"What is her name?"

I smirk. Yes, I don't want to get in trouble, but this opportunity may never happen again. So I say, "Well, she just told you. Were you paying attention?"

Mint grins one of her crazy grins up at me. She probably noticed my dancing eyes and dimples, even though they weren't in my voice at all.

Robot glares. She seems to be leaning toward intimidation.

"This is not a joke," She takes out her gun, melting our smiles. "What is her name?"

Mint stares at me. Her expression seems to still be neutral, but I can see fear working its way to her face.

"Her name is Lisle Mint Sae," I say quietly. "And she wants to know yours."

Robot's eyes seem to soften. She puts away her gun, and quickly pricks and scans Mint's finger.

"Go stand. Or sit I guess," Robot says, looking at the wooden wheelchair, "With the other thirteen year olds.

I begin to turn away, when Robot calls me back.

"My name is Rhina. Nice to meet you."

I smile. So does she. But Mint beats us all. Her grin stretches from ear to ear.

Then I turn and push Mint to her section. As soon as I arrive with her, the other thirteen year olds take one small, but noticeable, step away from her.

"She won't contaminate you." I snap, and then kneel down in front of Mint.

"Now listen sweetie. You don't have to worry, you're gonna be just fine."

Mint still looks scared, so I reassure her once more.

"They won't pick you. Okay?"

_Okay, _Mint signs. _Okay._

"Okay. It's okay. You aren't going to get picked. Alright?" I stare at her straight into her eyes. I'm now reassuring myself as well.

She won't get picked, because Snow will get revenge on me, like mother said. Not on Mint. Heck, he probably doesn't even know that she is eligible for reaping age.

_Okay. _She stares straight back. _But you can't either. _

I bite my lip, and give her a hug. Then I walk over to join the seventeen year olds. The smokestacks a few yards away belch continuous smoke, and the concrete sidewalks are dirty. The only blade of grass in sight rests in the yard of the mayor's house. His residence, unlike everyone elses', is two stories tall, freshly white, has a yard with flowers and trees, and has running water and electricity. In the distance, the workers of eight's homes stand. They are tall, dirty, run-down tenements, each family having only one room to cram themselves, their belongings, and everything else they need to survive, including a washtub and stove.

"Boo!"

I scream as Lace jumps in front of my and shakes me out of my daydreams. She dissolves into giggles, and I stand there, trying to maintain my dignity.

"Never fails!" She chokes, doubling over with laughter and wiping her eyes with her pinky fingers.

I scowl. "Whatever."

"C'mon, Auri! Lighten up! It'll be okay." She straightens and then stares at me seriously.

Then just as I sigh and let my guard down, she lunges over and tickles my stomach, and I fall over shrieking and kicking.

"I hate you!" I manage to force the words out between gulps of much needed air.

"I know!" She hugs her knees.

We remain seated for thirty or so seconds, and then Lace extends her hand. I grab it, and together, we pull each other up. I brush my hair back, and smooth my dress. I give one last fleeting smile in Lace's direction, and then turn to face the front. Our escort, Tia Ornate.

"Oh welcome! One and all! To our 100th annual Hunger Games! Oh I'm just so excited for this years Quarter Quell! Aren't you! Oh I'm so glad!" Tia beams down on us, clapping her gloved hands. As usual, she has taken part in the most hideous, but apparently beautiful, fashion trends of the Capitol.

Her skin is a pale, rosebud colored pink. On her head is a large tuft of curly, bouncy, fake, white hair. In the nest of curls lies a big, lace covered, black bow. Her dress has puffed sleeves, and appears to be made of pink silk. She wears tall black shoes, and her dress collar is black and reaches all the way around. It as well is silky, and it flops down over the dress. The dress has a slit, reaching all the way to her waist. The fabric around it is drowned in pink sparkles. As always, Tia is bubbly, talkative, and clueless.

"Now, now," Tia begins. "Before the real fun, the most anticipated event of the year, the picking of the tributes, begins, we simply must watch this lovely video!"

Then the _War. Terrible War. _Video begins, with a new edition, added seven years ago.

_And then, after peace had finally been restored to our beautiful nation, the Girl on Fire brought another wave of pain and fear. For two long years, we fought courageously, and finally, hard-won peace was restored. But with the peace, there came a price. The new Games would be even harder to win, enforcing the fact that the Capitol will always prevail. This is how we honor our past. This is how we safeguard our future. _

The video stops, and Tia starts up again.

"As you all know, this year is a Quarter Quell! Instead of having two tributes, we will have four, and only one of them will be a boy! Are you excited?" She begins to cheer, and beams happily, not noticing that we aren't cheering.

"Well now, what are we waiting for? Let us begin! Out three Lovely Laughing Lively Ladies first!" She chuckles at her stupid joke.

Tia smoothly traverses over to the one large bowl with the girls' names inside. With a flourish, she draws out a single slip.

She walks over to the microphone.

She opens the slip.

I breathe deeply.

"Indigo Blancesta!"

A girl I've never seen before walks to the stage. She is tall, dark, and has the bluest eyes. She appears to be seventeen, like me.

I let out a breath.

Tia congratulates the unhappy girl, ignores her weeping parents, and gives her two pecks on the cheek. Indigo flushes and doesn't respond.

"Why don't we go back on what I said before. Let's choose our boy!" Tia claps her hands together.

She moves over to the boys' bowl.

She draws a slip.

She walks to the microphone.

She opens the slip.

"Velvet Crimson!"

A boy with fiery red curls stalks to the stage and glowers. He appears to be eighteen.

Tia welcomes the sullen one, gives him a slight curtsy, asks for volunteers, and is greeted with silence.

Nobody makes a noise. Does this boy not have parents?

"Back to the Lovely Ladies!" Tia exclaims.

She once more moves to the bowl.

She draws a slip.

She walks to the microphone.

She opens the slip.

I breathe deeply.

"Lace Calico!"

No. It can't be Lace.

One look at her face proves me wrong. She's looking at me, her eyes huge. Her complexion has become pale, pasty, stricken. As if in a dream, she slowly walks forwards, towards the stage, towards her death.

Lace can't fight. She can't survive. She only knows how to sew, wake up early, and take care of kids. But I do. I would at least have a chance.

Last year, there was a fire in the factory where I worked. Half of the people, including Lace's parents, were killed. My father was too. But before he died, he taught me everything he knew.

His mother and father came from District 11, which is basically a prison. Before they were caught and killed for running away, my father and his twin sister, Taffeta, were born and raised in District Eight, and were taught about District Eleven and its important skills. As my I grew up, he taught me everything he knew about plants, healing, and climbing. I was exceptionally good at all three.

Okay, I couldn't do anything with a weapon, but maybe stealth could win out with that. Sure there would be the showdown at the end, but at least I could _maybe_ make it that far. Lace would get killed in the bloodbath.

Besides, they're going to pick my name next, so why don't I just save Lace, go myself, and have another random person go as well?

So I confidently step forward when Tia asks for volunteers.

"I volunteer as a tribute!"

Tia excitedly calls me up to the stage, practically foaming over with excitement.

_Kiss, kiss. _

"What is your name?" Tia guides me to the mic.

"I'm Auri Sae, and I'm seventeen."

I watch Lace as she gets carried away by the peacekeepers, screaming until I think she might cough up her lungs.

"NO! AURI! YOU CAN'T GO! I REFUSE YOUR VOLUNTEERATION! I'LL GO! GET YOUR HANDS OFFA ME!"

I look sadly in her direction.

Tia tisks at Lace and then primly folds her gloved hands and says, "Volunteeration is not a word. My, my, you citizens of District Eight don't get out much I suppose."

I find Mother in the crowd. She has her arms crossed, her face is pale, but I know she understands. I was going to go anyways, so why not save my friend while I'm at it? Gillian and Emalia are clinging to her skirts, crying. I make out Emalia's tiny little screams.

"Mama! I don't want Auri to go! Please make her come back!"

And Gillian's.

"Mommy! If you don't make Auri come back I'm running away and you'll never find me ever ever again! You have to go get her! GO!"

Mother sweeps both girls up and holds them tightly.

Tia walks back over to the bowls.

She draws a slip.

She walks back over.

Wait. There's something wrong. My name was rigged, why didn't they stop the reaping to change it?

Tia opens the slip.

Something is very, very messed up.

"Lisle Sae!"

Mint. My name was never going to be drawn. It was Mint's. If I had waited, I could have volunteered for her. But I didn't.

I search for Mother's face, but I realize that she's on the ground. Emalia and Gillian are staring at her limp form.

It's the last thing I see before I crumple.


	4. Chapter 4: Goodbye

When I come to, I'm surrounded by plush, warm, red furniture. The Justice Building. So it wasn't a dream. Mint and I are really going to the Hunger Games.

Together. One of us will for sure die. One of us just might possibly live. But based on my no-weapon skills, most likely, we will both die.

Oh. My. God.

"You have ten minutes." A gruff voice opens the door and in comes Mother.

"Oh Auri!"

She runs over to me, takes my hand, and strokes my hair as I begin to cry.

"Mint! Mommy," I sob into her chest. "Mint!"

Mother takes her fingers and lifts my chin up so I look at her.

"You can protect her. You can do this."

"Only one of us can win…" I begin to cry again.

Mother doesn't respond.

"I'm s-sorry I v-volunteered," My cries echo around the room. "Mommy, I thought that-"

"Both of my sweet children in that arena." She cuts me off and draws a shaky breath.

"Mommy, I'll make sure Mint makes it back. She will." My life is Mint's now. I _will_ bring her home.

Mother smiles sadly. She brushes the wisps of hair out of my face.

"I love you." She gives me a hug.

"I love you too."

Then the peacekeepers come back.

"Time's up." A man pulls Mother back by her hair, and she lets out a sharp yowl.

Then the door slams before I can react.

I walk to the window. Someone else has come to see me off, right? Sure enough, moments later, I turn to see Gillian and Emalia tumbling over each other to be the first through the door.

"When are you coming back?"

"Where are you going?"

"Can you bring me some food from the Capitol?"

"That's where she's going?"

"Yes you idiot!"

"I am not an idiot!"

"Riiight."

"What clothes are you gonna wear?"

"Is Mint going to be your ally?"

"She is right?"

"Right?"

"Right?"

The girls bring a small smile to my face. I lean over and hug them tightly.

"I love you two."

Then I straighten up and act like the world is not crumbling around me.

"You'll be fine. If you ever need help, Lace will give it to you. Okay?"

They grab my hands and press them to their tiny, boney little faces.

"Are you or Mint gonna come home?" Gillian has her hands on her thin hips. She sticks out her lower lip and asks the question as if she was just asking the time.

Suddenly the fierce desire to stay strong slumps. I fall with it, back onto the couch.

"Auri?" Gillian's whisper says.

Then she and Emalia climb up onto the sofa, one on each side of me. They snuggle down, and I put my arms around them. We remain still and quiet until the peacekeeper comes.

"Time's up." He starts to make a move toward Gillian and Emalia, but I push them behind me, and, with as much confidence as I can muster, I say,

"They can help themselves out."

The peacekeeper blinks, and then steps aside. Relieved, I give them little pushes. Thankfully, they seem to understand.

"I love you both!" I call. They cling to each other as they walk out.

Gillian looks back.

Emalia looks back.

"We love you!" They chorus.

And the door slams.

I look at myself in the mirror.

I am small, thin, and weak looking. The tearstains around my eyes have lessened, and I decide I'm done with crying. I will go to the Capitol, and I will be the strong, kind, older sister to Mint. I will show no more emotion.

The door opens, and Lace walks in.

After this goodbye is over.

**So hey y'all! I just realized that I haven't done an author's note for any of my chapters, and I kind of feel bad about that... So, here's one on a very short chapter! I hope you're enjoying my story. I literally work on it way too much, and have a lot already written, just not posted. I love love love hearing about what you're thinking, constructive criticism, favorite characters, etc. There's only one view point, but the reapings of the other districts are through the eyes of the other tributes. It sounds confusing, but it's not really. Anyways, this is getting kind of long, so I'll wrap it up. Thank y'all for being so awesome and taking the time to read my story! I really appreciate it!**

**xoxo**

** Julia**


	5. Chapter 5: The Train and the Tributes

"Oh it's simply so exciting! You all are tributes in a Quarter Quell! This is wonderful! I mean-"

Velvet cuts off Tia's excited rambling.

"Yeah, yeah. Where are our rooms?"

The train is huge, modern, and elegant. Everything is freshly polished and gorgeous. We all are sitting in blue armchairs together, though I would rather be doing anything else. Mint sits in my lap, her head lolling to one side.

Apparently she has caused quite a stir. Everyone in the Capitol is sure that these games will be the most interesting. Three girls and one boy from each district, and hey, look at that! Two girls from District Eight are sisters, and one of them is mentally disabled! This year is going to be the best!

It's sickening.

Tia stops her speech and looks to us.

"Your mentors should be here soon. They are probably in _their _rooms. But I suppose you could rest a while, and then at dinner, we could talk with them?" She begins to walk down the hall.

"Follow me, please!"

I pick up Mint, who screeches. I immediately set her back down, and she begins to kick and flail. I kneel down and try to quiet her, oblivious to the three watching pairs of eyes.

These occasional fits are called Mint's thunderstorms. When something bad, terrible, or just slightly annoying happens, she might have one. Getting separated from her family to fight to the death with her sister definitely counts as terrible.

"Shh…" I pick her up when her sobs have somewhat quieted and then set her in my lap, rocking her back and forth, back and forth.

"Sweetie it's gonna be okay, you're gonna go home. You will. You're gonna see Mama and Gillian and Emalia again. Okay? I promise. You're not gonna die." I kiss the top of her tiny blonde head.

I can see Tia, a troubled look resting on her bubbly face.

Velvet rolls his eyes and stalks out of the room.

Indigo shifts from one foot to the next, looking awkward and out-of-place.

But I ignore them all, only focusing on Mint. She squirms to face me.

_Home. _She clumsily signs the words. _Home. Mama. Home. Mama. Home. Mama. _

She scrunches her already wrinkled brow and adds more words, ones I hardly ever see. _Gillybean. Emmie. Gilly. Emmie. _

Gillian and Emalia.

"I know," I softly whisper. "I know sweet girl. But we can't. So lets go sleep. Okay?"

_No. _But all the fight has left Mint, and she doesn't resist my grip as a lift her up. _No. No. No. _

Tears run down her face.

I walk straight past Indigo and Tia, and walk to the room that says Female Tribute 2, which must be me.

"Ahem." Tia gives a cough behind me.

"What?" I turn around, my voice exasperated and testy, and Mint buries her face in my shoulder.

"Um," Tia shrinks back a little. "Well, you see deary, Lisle is supposed to sleep in the Female Tribute 3 room, and it is not proper for you to sleep in the same.." Her voice trails off, and she looks at me apologetically, but a certain gaze of superiority rests behind the kind look.

Fury rises inside of me.

"No."

"Excuse me?" Tia's mouth opens in a small "o".

Indigo stands behind her, face serious, but eyes dancing. A like for her swells in my chest.

"No." I repeat. "We will sleep in the same room thank-you-very-much, unless of course, you want her to scream all night long, or for her to start having one of her breathing issues, and die? Wouldn't that be wonderful? One tribute dead before we even arrive!"

Mint looks up at me and grins crazily.

_No. _She signs to Tia. _No. Auri me sleep. Auri me sleep. No!_

She signs her last 'no' with such vigor that I can only think of it as an exclamation.

Tia stutters out something unintelligible, and opens her mouth like a fish.

I turn on my heel, open the door, and walk into the room, slamming the door behind me.

Thoroughly exhausted, I strip off Mints clothes, put a silk nightgown lying on the bed on her, then strip to my underwear. Too tired to do anything else but sleep, I plop myself down next to Mint, click off the lamp, and we both sleep.

All too soon, a knock on the door arises me from my slumber.

"It's dinner time!" Tia's silly accent floats into my ears.

Reluctantly, I trudge out of the soft comfort of sleep. I head to the closet, and put on the first outfit I find.

Yellow jeans, and a green tank.

I grab a dress for Mint and wake her up. I then gently pull the rose-colored day dress over her head, strap her into her wheelchair, and wheel her into the dining room.

"Well, well," Jute Hayworne, our victor of seventeen years ago smiles, sizing us up. "A fighter and her sister."

"Her weird sister." Damask, the victor of ten years ago, leers.

"Shut up," I flush. "She's perfectly fine."

"Right." Damask snorts.

I hate her already.

_Good. Me. _Mint signs.

I smile as Damask warily looks from her to me.

"What did she say?"

"Good. Me."

Damask tousles Mint's hair and gives a smile.

"Okay," She grins, looking at the both of us. "Maybe I was kidding."

Behind her, Jute snorts.

"Anyways," She throws a look in his direction. "Come and sit."

We do, Mint next to me. I feed her tiny bites of lamb and rice as everyone else chats about strengths and weaknesses. I occasionally see Indigo watching us, but she flushes and looks away whenever I catch her. Velvet, on the other hand, stares shamelessly and oozes arrogance.

"So Velvet," Jute begins. "What are your strengths?"

Velvet tears his eyes away from me wiping Mint's mouth to answer.

"Swords, spears, knives, bows, maces," He deadpans.

Jute raises an eyebrow.

"Any particular skill?"

"Swords mostly," Velvet smirks. "And I'm fast, strong, and can endure a lot of pain."

Tia looks up from her frothy blue soup.

"Very nice!" She practically leaps up from her chair in excitement. "Perhaps District Eight can win this year!"

Indigo coughs pointedly, sending Tia back into her seat.

Gotta love that girl.

"What about you?" Damask sweeps her long hair back over her shoulder and puts her elbows on the tablecloth, causing Tia to glare.

"I can't really do anything," She begins. "But I'm smart, and I know how to hide."

Velvet groans, and Jute stifles a laugh. Damask and Indigo glare.

"And I'm pretty," Indigo purses her lips. "I know how to work the crowd."

"Okay then," Jute looks to Damask. "We won't count you out.

I watch this exchange with amusement, until I realize that it's my turn, and they're all staring at me.

"I can climb. I can find food. I'm strong. And I can heal."

They're still watching me, waiting for me to reveal my big talent.

I shrug my shoulders. "That's it."

Damask still is gazing at me.

"What?" I say, defensive.

"Nothing." Then she turns away.

"Well," Tia starts. "What about Lisle?"

"She goes by Mint, her middle name," I state coolly. "And what do you think?"

_Auri._ Mint's hand tone can only be described as snapping. _Auri._

Not wanting the other tributes, mentors, and Tias to hear what's probably coming, I revert to sign language myself.

_What? _I ask.

_Can. Me. _She seems to struggle for the right word.

_You can what? _Does Mint have a talent?

_Sad. Me. _Mint seems proud of herself.

_Mint, what? _I still don't understand.

She screeches in frustration, and knocks a bowl off the table. Red-clad avoxes rush to clean the mess up. Everyone is watching us, confused, intrigued, and totally lost. Mint tries again.

_Me. _She's going slower, and waits for me to repeat.

_You. _ I repeat.

_Sad. _

_Sad._

She gives a big pause, as if indicating the end of a sentence.

_They. _She points at Tia.

_They… Capitol? _

_Yes. Capitol. _She grins.

_They. _She starts again.

_Give._

_Me._

_Food._

_Money._

_Me._

_Sad. _She waits for me to understand. Suddenly I do.

_Pity? _I sign, tentatively.

_Yes. _Mint nods vigorously. _Pity. _

I relate the conversation to our mentors, and they laugh, telling Mint what a good idea that is. We all get along well for the rest of dinner, me feeding and calming Mint when necessary. The only person who doesn't seem to be getting along with the others is Velvet. He glowers the entire dinner, looking like the fate of the world rests on his shoulders.

Finally, dinner finishes, and we are led to a living room area to watch the recap of the reapings.

**So hi y'all! Thanks for reading the story. The next few chapters are going to be short, since it's reapings. But anyways, don't forget to review (please! They are awesome!). So until next time!**

**xoxo**

**Julia**


	6. Chapter 6: District 1 and 2 Reapings

**District One:**

Valour volunteers first, shooting aloof looks at the slower boys who didn't shout the words in time. He's brutal, huge, strong, and top on the list at the academy. He knows he's going to win, and he can't wait for the games to begin. His only despair is when Sapphire volunteers. God, she can't take a hint.

Sapphire gleefully ascends the stage. She is completely sure that Valour hides a secret crush for her, and is head-over-heels in love with him herself. She clings to him and giggles, acting like your typical dumb, ditsy blonde, but she knows she is much more. She is a killing machine.

Maia screams her volunteer statement. It's a death wish, and she knows it, but if she doesn't volunteer today, her father will beat her to death. At least she has slight chances of survival in the Hunger Games. She doesn't cry as she walks to her fate. No, she must fit right in with the careers. She is small, skinny, but has a cruel look in her eyes. She can, no, she will be the winner.

Radiance comes up to the stage next. She is only twelve, but she knows she is powerful. Having a history of a mental disease, she is only too eager to kill. Radiance 'accidentally' pushes Maia over. Even though Radiance is only twelve and Maia is eighteen, Radiance senses something weak about her. When asked to introduce herself, she says arrogantly, "Hello Panem. My name is Radiance. You can call me Radi if you like. I'm going to kill you all and be the winner of the 100th annual Hunger Games."

**District Two: **

Terra leaps to volunteer first. She is aware that she looks small and childish, so she brings a knife, and there on the stage, casually starts to pick out dirt from underneath her nails. Yes, childlike, but oh-so effective. She pets her dark ponytail as the others are chosen. She is ready to kill, to win.

Victor lunges forward next. His spiky hair must always be in check, and he reminds himself to look arrogant. Capitol people like arrogant. They like killers, and they like handsomeness. He is all three. But he is volunteering to be Victor. Victor like his name. It was what he was raised to be. Victor the Victor. He will win. "All you little wusses better watch out," He screams into the mic. "I will murder you all to win."

Styx runs forward next. She didn't want to volunteer. But, well, if your twin is reaped, wouldn't you? She has trained. She is excited. And the fact that she'll become closer to Victor, her crush, is probably a plus. Maybe she can die to save him. Or vice-versa would be nice.

Ashlar is reaped. No one volunteers. It's because they hate her. Because she stole all of their boyfriends, friends, and sometimes family members. She steals love, with her big brown-eyed pout and her large, um, chest. Ashlar shrugs it off. It's not her fault she was born to be envied. It's not her fault that they love her to death. Literally.

**Like I said, these will be really short chapters. More coming very soon!**

**xoxo**

**Julia**


	7. Chapter 7: District 3 and 4 Reapings

**District Three: **

Lanni can't breathe when her name is called. She walks in a dream, and only wakes up to the sound of a gunshot. She shrieks as her brother is pulled away, his mangled, bloody arm hanging by his side. She knows she can't last a day. She is cute, yes, very cute. Black hair, big blue eyes, tan, short, slim, twelve. The definition of cute. Look her up in the dictionary and there's a picture of her there. Her mask of panic slips. Maybe she does have a chance.

Cordin is next. He has his nose in a book, as usual, and is fiddling with some wires. He drops both when his name echoes through the square. He doesn't want this. He isn't afraid to die, but he is afraid to kill. He can't murder other kids. He can't. He cries openly. He can't, but he must. Shaking, Cordin climbs up to the stage and stands with his escort. Goodbye District Three, and hello Capitol.

Futura is next. Eighteen and ready to be over with this mess, she stalks on stage, glaring at the cameras. This wasn't necessary. Futura had her whole life planned out down to the minute, and Hunger Games will mess up her schedule. Yes, she admits to herself that she is a little high-maintenance, but this is just outrageous. Right?

Dayta is called upon. She positively skips to the stage. At thirteen, Dayta is starved for, yes food, but adventure as well. This is exciting! Amazing! Scary! Awesome! She bounces on the balls of her feet and gabbles into the microphone that is held out to her.

**District Four:**

Roman volunteers first. Tall, bronze, brazen, and blonde, he knows he has it going on. All the girls want to date him, all the boys want to be him, and hopefully, all the sponsors will want to support him. Career from age five, he can kill with a single blow to the head. His goal is to appear scary and unbeatable. He is arrogant, and ready for blood. He _will _win.

Maria is chosen next. Sedna watches in horror as her tiny sister is pulled up to the stage. Maria can't fight at all, and has no desire to be a career. Sedna, on the other hand, wanted to be prepared for anything, so she decided to train. She opens her pink lips, smooths back her dirty-blonde locks, and volunteers.

Brooke is chosen next. With her tall and skinny frame, her plain brown eyes and hair, and her age of sixteen, she doesn't know what to think. Sponsors? Uh, no. Fame? Yes. Certain Death? Maybe. She has trained since the age of seven. Is she ready? She doesn't know. She doesn't know anything. Uh-Oh. Brooke walks up, longing to hear the cries of a loved one mourn her, but there are none.

Monique volunteers. Excited, friendly, and sultry, she thinks that she will make the perfect victor. Maybe they'll even let her ride in a chariot with Roman. Oh my God! She almost squeals while she glides in expertise to the stage, but then remembers that she is a tough, strong, killer. Oh my God! Roman is just so dreamy, handsome, and totally in love with her. Oh my God!

**Thank you, thank you, thank you for being awesome and reviewing! I really appreciate it!**

**More coming in like five minutes!**

**xoxo**

**Julia**


	8. Chapter 8: District 5 & 6 Reapings

**District Five: **

Spark can't breathe. The unthinkable has happened. Her lover, protector, sister, and life has been chosen. She is eighteen. She won't win. She can't go. Nina can't go. Spark clutches her red head in between her freckled hands and watches in horror as Nina, her black hair floating behind her, ascends the stage. No. Spark straightens up to achieve her entire height of four foot two. She pushes out her belly, trying to look stronger, but it is still nonexistent. Then she steps out, and calls out her death sentence. She only hears a slight buzzing in her ears and an eerie chant echoing through her mind. _Better me than Nina. Better me than Nina. Better me than Nina. _Nina has taken care of her for the twelve years Spark's life. It would be proper to save her from death. Right?

Vida is terrified. She can't get picked. She'll die within the first day. She has no skills, strengths, or looks to impress the people of the Capitol, and she knows it. She is tall, skinny, with horrible yellow teeth, bushy brown hair, thick glasses, gray eyes, and a squashed nose. Her skin is covered in pimples and freckles, and her hands are too large, too rough. Her feet are the same. Girls and boys alike avoid her like the plague. So naturally, she is relieved when a name, not her own, echoes through the silent square. _Brites Avenue. _A muffled shriek comes from the seventeen year old section, and then the slap of boots on pavement. It dawns on Vida. That stupid girl is trying to run. She doesn't get very far. Red hits gray, and rivers of liquid run out of Brites' thin, delicate neck. The escort, flustered, quickly draws another name and reads it out. _Vida Calle. _Numb. Annoyed. Angry. Dead. That describes her perfectly.

Isaak was never a coward. But now he's scared. He dutifully did what he was told, and performed the most terrifying tasks effortlessly. He would clean up dangerous chemicals in the factories, put out fires in the factories, and even experiment with radioactivity for the factories. It was like he was a robot. He went through the motions, speaking to himself as he did things. _Get the water, Isaak. Get dressed, Isaak. Write the numbers down, Isaak. _Did that make him crazy? He didn't know. It certainly kept him sane. Isaak didn't talk much. Only when necessary. He really had no one to talk to, and he cared. Mother? Dead. Sister? Dead. Father? Dead. Even his old dog, Izzie, is dead. So when his name is called, all Isaak thinks is, _Leave the seventeen year old section now Isaak, and get ready to join your family._

Bina, that's By-nyah, is chosen. She is numb for ten seconds, and then burning pain rips through her. She can't win. She'll die. But she won't die without a fight. No. She will survive for her Father. Her father, who has no family left but her. She finds his tearful face in the crowd and feels a lump rise in her thin throat. Her hands flutter in nervousness, and she knows they mirror the butterflies in the meadows. Bina can't lose her father. Her father can't lose her. Being strategic and logical, Bina thinks up a plan. She'll win. Easy, and simple. Watch out tributes. Bina from District Five is coming your way.

**District Six: **

Carter is chosen first. He knows he is sullen, but that's sort of the point. He refuses to speak into the mic after his escort, Liva, asks him to say his name and age one more time. He refuses. He doesn't want to be part of the Capitol's stupid games. An awkward silence ensues, and Liva eventually says it for him: Carter Ford. Carter can't leave his district to go into the Hunger Games. His mother already lost his sister and brother to them. But he is aware that his size and demeanor will win him more than a few sponsors, so maybe, just maybe his mother won't lose him as well.

Demica is sixteen. No one speaks when her name is called. No one offers to volunteer, and no one cries. In fact, more than one person laughs openly. She glares, her mouth set, her muscles taut. She knows she isn't popular. Who would be if you personally caused the hungriest family in the town to get arrested for stealing food? Like daughter like father she supposes. After all, her dad is the mayor of District Six. But she won't go down without a fight, and if she goes down, someone is coming with her.

Sienna doesn't believe her ears. Twelve and completely mute, she wonders whether her step-brother will be glad to see her gone. As a matter of fact, when she turns in a slow, fearful circle, she catches notice of his cat-like leer. He is glad. Atlas was never happy to be her brother, and is a bit sadistic. When he was thirteen and she was seven, his mother and her father married, making them siblings. Immediately, Atlas became fed up with Sienna's constant and merry chatter. Only seven, Sienna couldn't help being bubbly. She finally had a mother! Atlas, annoyed and jealous, told her a tale about the avoxes. Then, the same night, he crept into her room, and reached a hand inside her small mouth. Sensing something was wrong, Sienna had woken up. She tried to scream with pain, but her step-brother was sawing through her tongue. She ran to the bathroom, spit the blood out, and tried to tell her parents, but they didn't understand, and Sienna couldn't write. Sienna never spoke again. She couldn't. Now she would never see her parents again, because she was leaving for the Hunger Games, and she would die. Oh no.

Aria watched the displays, almost bored. One kid after another kid. Carter, the strong and silent. Demica, the stupid goody-goody. Then Sienna, District Six's very own avox. No one of importance. To her at least. She lifted her dark brown hair off of her sticky broad shoulders and waited, in nonchalance, for the last name to be called, so she could run home and bathe in ice. _Ariel Crady! _Her sister. Okay, okay. Aria bounced on the balls of her feet, nervous, and about to hyperventilate. _Asses the situation. _She thinks. _Ariel can't fight. _No she can't. _Can you? _No she can't. _Do you want her to die? _No thanks. _Do you want to die? _No thanks. _Who's prettier? _Aria is. _That settles it. _"I volunteer!" What an interesting crowd she'll be with this year.

**Hey y'all! Hope you're enjoying the other tributes! Out of curiosity, I'd really love it if you'd answer the following in a review:**

**1) Who is you favorite character in District 1? 2? 3? 4? 5? 6?**

**2) Who is your least favorite character in District 1? 2? 3? 4? 5? 6?**

**3) Any cool ideas for what could happen to these characters?**

**Thanks for being the best ever!**

**xoxo**

**Julia**


	9. Chapter 9: District 7 & 8 Reapings

**District Seven:**

Ivy, a girl with ivory skin and black hair, is picked. She is thirteen, and she decides to throw a temper tantrum. Maybe they'll let her go. Or at least not forget her, and maybe sponsor her. She is sure she can't leave her eldest sister. She's about to get married. The peacekeepers have to haul her onto the stage, kicking and screaming and howling about how she doesn't want to go because she has a quiz on Wednesday, and will fail if she's in the Capitol. It's obviously a lie, and everyone, except for maybe the stupid airheads living in the Capitol, knows it.

Grover is chosen next, he cries and cries, knowing that although he looks skinny and weak, he is fast, a genius, and more than good with an axe. Weakness causes the careers to underestimate a tribute, he knows that. So why not be underestimated? They'll leave him to be last, and then he'll kill them all. Like the victor who died in the rebellion. Johanna Mason. His father, a well-known drunkard, probably doesn't even notice, and if he does, doesn't even care. So Grover decides he'll play the Games his way.

Hazel volunteers. It's her last year in the Hunger Games, and she is perfectly aware that she could have made it out fine. But today changed everything. Asher, her baby sister, though she knew she would say differently, as they are twins, was picked. Asher had been scared of the games ever since their brother, Elmer, had died in them when she was only six. She would try to run away every reaping, and would cower until it was over. Hazel, on the other hand, was vicious. Granted, she had a gentle streak, but only with those close to her. Hazel threw axes, she climbed trees, she threw axes some more. She didn't enjoy the kill, but she bared it. Thus, Hazel, her smirk, and her muscular body stood on stage, ready to win.

Olivia stood like a toy soldier; back straight, arms by sides, face neutral. She itched to stretch her flexible calves, or to spin in circles, or to go up on her toes on her homemade pointe shoes. But no, she was told to stand still, so she will, and when this whole mess of names, gore, and ultimate death is over, she will lose her heart in dance. Then, when she has almost decided to break out of her soldier stance to reach up and fix her long blonde ponytail, the crazy person on the stage calls her name. Olivia screams, and tries to get out of the square. She pushes past one girl, another, and another. She knows she can't win, or even come close to. She sobs when a white-clad peacekeeper grabs her and drags her up to the stage. As she slumps in defeat on the stage, she tries in vain to find one last songbird, one last flower in the meadow, anything that is pretty. She can't, and she is taken inside, knowing she will not survive.

Here I stop watching, knowing what is coming next. My district. I shouldn't be paying attention to names. How in the world will I kill these people?

Then I appear.

**District Eight:**

I watch as I volunteer, scream, and pass out. Damask says I'll either be interesting and captivating, or I'll go down as a total drama queen. Either, apparently, would be okay.

Oh joy.

Mint is quiet as she watches herself, drooling a little. I see tears pooling out of her eyes.

TV Mint is chosen. When her name is called, the girls behind and in front of her back away quickly. Mint doesn't seem to realize what's going on. Then one of the girls stretches a tentative hand out and gives her a push, hissing, "That's you! Go!"

TV Mint raises her arms and flings them down, trying to move the wheels forwards, but completely missing them. Someone snorts. I can she a pale blush arise on Real Mint's face, but as soon as it happens, it disappears.

TV Mint waves an arm up, and then another. Then, there on what was live television, Mint has thunderstorm. The announcers, unsure how to handle a 'mentally disabled girl', as they called her, having a tantrum on TV, simply gave nervous chuckles, and then lapsed into silence.

Finally, since Mother and I both are pale, crumpled heaps, Gillian rushes forward, dragging a reluctant Emalia behind her. I can barely hear the words they whisper.

"Mint, you have to go. Here we'll help." Gillian tries to push Mint, but Mint's still flailing arm smacks her face. Gillian leaps back, then forward again. "Mint." She is loud now, commanding. "Why are you so freaked out? Auri's going too! You're not gonna die, because she's there! Duh!"

Mint calms right down.

I am crying now, reaching out to touch the small, static forms of Gillian and Emalia.

A peacekeeper approaches to push Mint up, but Emalia, in a rare show of defiance, inspired by Gillian, shoves him away.

"Not to be rude, sir," Her small voice is strong. "But we can do it."

And with that, District 9 comes on the screen.

I don't watch for a while, just twist my hands and stare numbly at the swirls on the carpet. Gillian and Emalia. Me and Mint. Mother and Father. Everyone revolving around the sick, twisted Hunger Games.

**Hey! Just another chapter with the reapings! Please please please don't forget to answer the questions on my last chapter! I'd be so happy if y'all did!**

**xoxo**

**Julia**


	10. Chapter 10: District 9 and 10 Reapings

**District Nine:**

Ceres is chosen first. She is nervous, but almost positive she can win. Want to know how? Well. She flips her long red hair back behind her shoulders, and places one smooth, lily-white hand on her rosy cheek. Ceres shoots a surreptitious smile at half of the boys in the crowd. Her hips sway, back and forth, and one hand casually rests on one. She doesn't bother to cover up her chest, and her breasts are accented by the tight yellow top she chose to wear. Finally, she takes her rightful place, center-stage, and dazzles the boys of the Capitol. Ding, ding! Ceres knows she has a fighting chance. No girl volunteers. She knows perfectly well why. She has snatched a record breaker of twelve boys out from under the not-so-perfect noses of the girls in her grade. No wonder they want her to die. Whatever. She tosses her hair, regains her smile, and blows air kisses at a few of her plentiful and worshiping boyfriends.

Then Omri is chosen, but before he can walk up to the stage, around twenty thirteen and fourteen year old boys fall to the ground in a fist-fight, all of them probably wanting to protect Ceres. Though he would never admit it, Omri hopes that one of the boys will manage to get up and volunteer. He doesn't want to be in the Hunger Games. He doesn't want to die. He just wants to stay in District Nine and live a quiet, simple, hard-working life. But no boy gets up, so he walks, jamming his fists in his pockets, dragging his black boots, through the cloud of yellow, swirling dust, and claims his place on the ominous stage.

Zea is picked. She scuttles up to the stage, ready to get this nightmare over with. Quiet and shy, Zea is only fourteen. She even looks shy. Big blue eyes, black bobbed hair, pale skin, skinny, knobby. She knows she won't win. How could she? The whole situation is hopeless. She stands stockstill, hands clenched into fists, and breathes deeply. At least she isn't the oldest. No, her older brother can take care of her ten younger brothers and sisters. With a house so full, she tells herself they won't even miss her. But she knows she is lying, and tears begin to make her eyes glassy.

Sunnoria is forced to go next. She barely listens to the name that is called, and then, with her tan, rough hands clutched at her sides, she volunteers. She doesn't want to of course, but she will to save her little brother, who, according to Gwenith, a girl who mercilessly oppresses her, will be hurt. Badly. So she gave him one last hug before the reaping, told him that she would be going away for a while. Then she made Rye, one of her only friends in the community home, promise to look after him. After all, he is only six.

**District Ten:**

Eve is first. She is thirteen, and doesn't even move. She can't process this. Her big brown eyes are wide and terrified, she shakes in her too-big boots as she walks on stage. She knows she's too skinny. Way too skinny. Eve knows her dress, which was made for a four year old, is too short. But it was the closest thing that fit her tiny chest, hips, waist, and belly, without showing her underwear. And it still hangs loose. Her long dark hair only accentuates her hollow cheeks. She stands on the stage, silent, tearful, and doesn't react when the wind whips up her pitiful excuse for a dress, and reveal her rose-patterned underwear to the entire nation of Panem. She eventually feels strong arms hug her, and then carry her away from safety, off to danger.

Gael is second. He doesn't react. Just walks up to the stage like a robot. He hopes none of the other tributes notice the way his eyes are flickering: back and forth, nervous and suspicious. He taps his fingers against his thigh, composing a slow, funeral march in his head, just before he realizes that that's a bit morbid, so he stops. He walks forward, about to go into the Justice Building, his mind a daze, concertos and symphonies chasing each other round and round his mind. But then he stops, noticing the tiny girl, Eve. Her name has a lilting melody to it, and his heart melts at the pitiful sight: A starving girl, crying as the wind exposes her underwear to the world. Gael lopes over and whispers in her ear. She doesn't respond, so he lifts her up. She lies stiff as a board in his arms. He then turns around, ignoring the shifting and murmuring people, and stalks back into the building.

Merona is third. She is strong, her arms toned and buff from working on the ranches all day. She claims her place, not fully realizing where this will take her. At sixteen, she is a little slow. One thing at a time, not more than one. School isn't important to her. Love and work is what is. Hunger Games will bring her fame, glory, and food. That would be nice. A life without lifting a finger. But she doesn't fully comprehend what she will have to go through to live that life. So Merona dutifully takes her place, wondering what the weeks in store will bring.

Carlotta is mildly surprised when her name is called. Though she lives in ten, a district supposed to be strong and stupid, she is completely aware that she is smarter than all of the adults in District 3. The possibilities of her name being drawn were eight hundred fifty-seven to one, if you factor rigging possibilities, likelihood of volunteers, and amount of teressa. She squeezed her eyes and tries to comfort herself. _Carlotta. _She thinks. _Italian form of Charlotte. Charlotte. Feminine form of Charles. Charles. Warrior, brave. Possibly, it's in your blood. _There are twenty-four other tributes, and each will have a certain number of sponsor, depending on their- A microphone shoved to her face cuts off the thoughts. "What's _your_ name dearest?" The idiot from the Capitol already knew her name. But she obliges, eager to try out her much thought out strategy. "Howdy y'all. I's Carlotta. I ain't gonna tell you no lies and other bull all dem careers dos and stuff 'bout anythin', so I's a gonna tell ya that I don' know if I's gonna win or not. I's only fourteen, and I's never done gonda school before. But I's really excited for this stuff y'all want me to do and stuff. It's soundin' real cool and stuff." Sound stupid, think smart. This is her idea. This is what will let her win.

**I've gotten a few really awesome suggestions and reviews! Thank you for taking the time to do that! My next few chapters will take a while, since all of this was written before I got a fan fiction account, and now there isn't any pre-written chapters left. **

**Thank y'all for being the best!**

**xoxo**

**Julia **


	11. Chapter 11: District 11 and 12 Reapings

**District Eleven:**

Caritta is chosen first. Tall, forgettable, and strong, she has a fighting chance at winning, and she knows it. She stalks up to the stage, a bit annoyed, rolling her deep brown eyes, fluffing up her dark black curls. Once up there, the escort asks her her name. "_Obviously Caritta Hayes!" _She wants to scream. "_Isn't that what you just said?!" _But she doesn't. In the nick of time, she thinks of something better. "Hello Panem, Albia," Caritta smiles sweetly at the cameras, and then her escort. "My name is Edwina Oranges. Nice to meet you all." Albia looks dumbfounded. Caritta smiles to herself and waits for Albia to call her on her bluff. Instead, Albia smiles gleefully, and announces, "Let's hear it for Caritta!" Everyone looked confused. Albia began to glide to the girls' names once more, and Caritta stuck her foot out and tripped her. As Albia's neon yellow wig flew off, Caritta smiled. Life was sweet.

Pepper stared in wonder as the brave girl with the almost coffee-colored skin tripped the lady. For a moment, Pepper wished with all her heart that she could be brave like the girl, Edwina Caritta Oranges Hayes. But then every lesson she had ever been taught about the Capitol came rushing back, and Pepper made such a loud _tsk, tsk _noise that the thirteen year old girls around her stared. That girl, almost a rebel, was going to get herself into trouble someday. At least she, Pepper Woodling, was a proper citizen of District Eleven. _She _ loved the Capitol. _She _had been commended for her good manners. _She _would be pleased to serve in the Hunger Games. "Pepper Woodling!" She _would_ serve in the Hunger Games. Pepper bounded up to the stage. One of the wealthiest girls in District Eleven, Pepper was what you could call mildly overweight. Okay, a lot overweight. At 4 foot 9, Pepper weighs approximately 145 lbs, and she knows it isn't healthy, but who can blame her for loving food and hating exercise? Pepper stopped the bounding almost immediately, as she felt too tired. She joined Albia and beamed happily. Capitol, here she comes!

Trail, a fourteen year old girl, was called up next. She gave a gasp, and then promptly burst into tears. Spoiled rotten, Trail was given whatever she wanted whenever she wanted it. Her mother and father doted on her, and it helped that she was very, very cute. Then, when she turned ten, her family's business failed, and Trail was forced to work in the fields. It was awful. Suddenly, there was never enough to eat, she was messy and dirty and sweating all the time, and she had to bathe in cold water. Her mother insisted on spoiling her even more, although there wasn't enough food for that sort of thing. Her older sister was suddenly withheld from food, so that "Itty bitty witty Trail" would have enough. Or, rather, more than enough. Two years ago, her sister volunteered to go to the Hunger Games, in the hopes that she would win and not live on the verge of starvation, thanks to Trail. She died in the final three, and Trail, though it shocked her a bit, wasn't sad at all. It was like she never was there. And now, Trail, screaming and crying and sobbing and flailing for Mother to come and take her back home so she wouldn't have to go, realized her fate. Like her sister, she would probably die. So when Trail was thrown in a sobbing heap at a fat, disgusted looking girl's feet, she just kept on screaming.

Koring watched Trail with amusement. That girl had it coming. She was the worst of the worst, the kind of girl who had adults wrapped around her little finger, the kind who loved to torment souls and then blame it on an innocent. So when Trail let out a screech that so far, hadn't died out, Koring smiled. Until his name was called. His amusement surged around, bubbled, fizzed, turned over, and became anger. Fists clenched so tightly that he could see the cords of his bones, Koring scowled fiercely and pushed five other boys out of the way in his quest for the stage. Only did his anger fizzle a bit when he was pushed next to Caritta. He was in love with her. She was tall, strong, beautiful, smart, and loving. She was funny. He nearly died when she told the escort a different name. He just hoped he wouldn't have to end up killing her.

**District Twelve:**

Harmony hums the tune her fingers drew out on the piano this morning. _Da-dum. Di-di-di-dum. Da-di di di-da-dum. _Words. _I do… Not want to go… To the reaping today..._ Because she didn't. Who did? District Twelve was the poorest, filthiest, worst district there ever even was. Like nobody wanted to go to the reaping. Nobody. Especially not Harmony. They never allowed her to bring in her pipe. One hand always needed to be on an instrument, or Harmony just might have a panic attack. But today, she came up with an idea. Her pipe is her token, in case she is reaped. Of course there is not a chance of that. She only has thirteen entries at sixteen. A bright cheery tune races through her mind, inspired by the bright orange Capitol woman onstage. The music slows as she picks a name. It goes faster, faster, faster, and then stops. She listens for the name. "Harmony Groves!". The music picks up again. Wait. Harmony. That's her. A singular tear falls down her pale face, and she sings quietly as she walks to the stage.

Iris sighs and skillfully braids and unbraids her blue-black hair. She adjusts the bracelet on her wrist, and then adjusts the ribbon in her hair. She tugs at the hem of her purple dress, and then brushes the dust off. Iris cannot be chosen. She can't. The sight of blood makes her faint, and the idea of being killed terrifies her. If she is chosen, she will die within the first few minutes. One of the shyest, quietest, blasé girls in District 12, nobody notices her. Nobody will miss her. Nothing will happen. The orange escort opens the next slip, and calls, "Iris Fleur!". Her. As she maneuvers her way to the stage, she notices a few girls whispers. _Who is that? She's in our grade? Where does she live? What? _The only thing Iris has going for her in these games is observing things. She is so dead.

Saffron is picked third. She flutters her long blonde eyelashes and then puts a discreet hand to her ear. "Saffron Wyoming!" Nope. Still her. She tosses her dark blonde hair over her shoulder and glares at the cameras. Her fists clench tighter and tighter and tighter. Her jaw sets. Saffron flounces to the stage and rests her hands on her thin hips. She sticks her lip out and scowls. In truth, she is terrified, scared to the point of passing out. But as an eighteen year old only girl in the community home, she doesn't try to run. She doesn't try to make herself feel mad that no one is going to mourn her almost certain death. She's glad she was picked, and not some other poor child who mattered. Because no one will miss her. Except for maybe her clients. Her job was how she managed to stay alive. The people who ran the community home in District Twelve weren't very generous. No, that's an understatement. They gave out food once a week, clothes twice a year, and beatings daily. The food was a single bowl of soup with bread, and, if they were good, cheese. Most children kicked the bucket from starvation, and whenever that happened, Saffron hated herself. The oldest person there, she felt the need to provide sustenance. So she became a prostitute. She loathed it. The act of enjoying it wore her out every day. The only thing she was worried about was all those children who would die without the money she provided.

Cypress is almost relieved when he hears his name. District Twelve isn't the place for him. And he's got the scars and bruises on his back to prove it. Ever since his mother died, his father, once kind, loving, and protective, turned to alcohol to escape the reality. The twisted version of Cypress's father held him down and hit him with a belt, a whip, his own fists. Cypress lived a nightmare, and the only light in his life was his girlfriend and soon-to-be wife, Dawn. With a jolt, Cypress realizes what his name being called means. Never will he see his beautiful wife in her wedding dress. Never will he see the children he wants so badly. Unless he wins. He will win. For Dawn.

**Hope your enjoying these tributes! Don't forget to ****review and suggest and tell me who your favorite tributes are!**

**Thank y'all for being the best!**

**xoxo**

**Julia**


	12. Chapter 12: The Train and Arrival

With that, the Capitol seal comes on the screen, and I fall back onto the green, plush armchair. I don't speak. Just hold onto the image of Mother, Gillian, and Emalia, fighting back large, crystal, blurry teardrops all the while.

"Well!" Tia sparkles. "Looks like you've got some tough competition! Quite tough. Quite, quite tough. Quite, quite, quite-"

"Yes, yes," Damask hastily stands up. "Interesting tributes."

"Yes, interesting! Yes, yes interesting! Yes, yes-" Tia is in agreement with everyone tonight.

"Very," Jute stands as well. "But it's time for bed, of course."

"But of course! Sleep is wonderful! So wonderful! So, so wonder-" Tia's voice bounces with the small movement of her head bob.

""Yes," Indigo catches on. "I'm really tired." She gives a huge, fake yawn, and I feel a small smile form on the corner of my mouth.

"Yes, as well am I! I am so-" Tia is once more cut off.

"Me too." Velvet shoots up and stalks to his room. I don't think he realized what was going on.

_Want to sleep._ Mint signs, fingers flying near my cheeks.

"I'm going to bed." I stand up, kneel down in front of Mint, adjust her straps, and wheel her to our room, catching one last glimpse of Tia, sitting still, as if stunned by the sudden disappearance of her tributes.

Then, once more, Mint and I undress, climb into bed, and sleep.

When I wake up to the morning sun gleaming through the window, I realize that Mint is gone. The bed is empty, but her wheelchair is still there. Someone took her.

With a gasp, I fly out of bed, not stopping to get dressed properly, pulling on white pants and a pink tank top. The rush out of the room, and stand in the doorway of the dining room.

There, Tia is sitting in a chair at the table, and next to her is…. Mint. All dressed up prettily, in a yellow button down, a floral skirt, and cowboy boots. Looking happy. She is kicking with delight, eating a pastry that Tia is feeding to her, bite by bite. As I approach the little duo, unseen, I hear Tia talking.

"Now Mint, dearest, today is the day we reach the Capitol! It's quite big, but no need to worry, you'll have me to guide you!" Here she pauses, watching Mint. Mint looks back and does a weird gesture with her hands that I've never seen before.

"Yes of course! We have tons of them! Barrels of them!" Tia's eyes are flickering down to the pastry. "But now, anyways, we should arrive in two to three hours. When we get there, you'll go be beautified by your stylists! After that, we have the parade!"

Mint notices me and makes another wild gesture with her hands.

Tia turns around and bounces a little. "Yes, you can be in a chariot with Auri. Auri, come join us!"

I walk in a daze, over to the chairs, and pull one up to them. "What's going on?" I look towards Mint, and she begins to use the normal signs, the ones I've seen before.

_Auri and Mint getting near Capitol. _A wild gesture comes in.

_What?_ I sign, lost again. Mint points at Tia. _Tia?_

_Tia. _She confirms. _is teaching about Capitol. Join talk Auri. _

"Alright," I smile a bit. A friend of Mint's can be a friend of mine. Hopefully. "I'll join."

The next thirty minutes prove to be more meaningful than I thought it would be. Tia got right along with Mint, and at one point, I even laughed at one of her jokes. When Jute, Damask, Indigo, and Velvet stumbled in, dazed from sleep, I'll even admit I was upset our time had been interrupted.

"I see Mint is already dressed," Jute looks at our small group. "I guess we should do the same."

I reluctantly stand. "You okay, Mint?" I ask, still a bit confused about the sudden bond between Mint and Tia.

_Fine, Auri. _Mint pushes her hands to my back, as if gesturing for me to leave the room. _Clothes, Auri. _

I grin a bit and leave the room, looking back over my shoulder just in time to see Tia pull Velvet down into the seat next to her and fuss over his messy orange curls. Life is sweet. You know, except for the part about me fighting to the death with my sister, of course.

**Hi y'all! This is sort of a filler chapter, and I know it's kind of short, but a longer one with the chariot rides is coming soon. Hope you enjoyed! Please, please review and suggest things!**

**Thanks for being the best!**

**xoxo**

**Julia**


	13. Chapter 13: The styling

I grin a bit and leave the room, looking back over my shoulder just in time to see Tia pull Velvet down into the seat next to her and fuss over his messy orange curls. Life is sweet. You know, except for the part about me fighting to the death with my sister, of course.

_Riiiiip. _I wince as Alecta, a young woman with purple skin and blue jewels above her eyebrows, yanks the third waxing strip off my now nearly hairless legs.

"Oh, dear, quite sorry!" Her silly voice pipes in my ear. "But you will look simply gorgeous when this is all over!"

I shrug and close my eyes underneath the blindfold. For some odd reason, they think that I will "simply adore" the surprise of not knowing what I look like until the end.

My prep team, as I've been told they're called, are the most hideous, most annoying, most talkative people I have ever met. So far, Andela, an older woman with shockingly pink leopard spots all over her body and the tiniest waist known to man, has told me the secrets of everyone in the Capitol, Juris, a man with pointed ears and long, blue fingernails, has told me of the dramatic break-up with his ex-boyfriend, and Alecta, Andela's sister, has recited her schedule for the next two months.

I was told to love whatever they did, but a girl can only take so much pain and nonsensical chatter. Seriously. This should be a crime.

"Honey," Juris smacks the gum he's been chewing. "We're done! It's time for the big reveal!" He claps his abnormally tan hands together.

I'm pulled up, Juris grabs one arm, Andela another, Alecta pushes my back. They hustle me over to what seems like the end of the room, and pull off my blindfold. I gaze at my reflection, and cross my arms over my bare chest, suddenly uncomfortable.

"Ta-da!" The idiots wiggle their fingers at me. "Look at yourself! Gorgeous, you're gorgeous!" And I realize that I am. Maybe a bit. For a second I forget about my awkwardness and stare, dumbfounded.

I've never been pretty. I could be, probably, if I tried, but not the natural kind of beautiful like Lace. I have, or had, I suppose, mousy blonde locks that frizzed and curled, much to my chagrin. My eyes were small and dark green. My skin was pale and I was too skinny. My nose seemed to be too long, my lips too permanently pursed. But now. But now!

My hair is highlighted, yet it appears natural, like thin strands of gold. I am sunkissed and tanned, thanks to a miracle called bronzer. My eyes and eyelashes pop, yay makeup. My nose appears to be smaller, and my lips are pink and full. I am gorgeous.

The Team must have sensed my delight, and Alecta speaks.

"Told you!"

I smile for the first time since entering the room. "Thank you." I say quietly.

They grin right back and bob their heads, backing out of the room as they do so. "Yes! Yes! Of course, no problem! Your stylist will be here any minute now! Have fun!"

And then they are gone.

I walk over to the smooth, metal bench in the corner, the one that I lay on as I was stripped of my clothes, then dirt, then hair. I rest my hands on its cool surface and consider reaching to grab my robe. After a minutes consideration, I stretch my arm upwards and yank it down, enveloping my skinny body in its warm, vanilla smell.

As soon as I've tied the belt, the door bangs open, and a young woman, who appears to be in her late twenties, walks in, making me jump.

"Hello," She says briskly, sounding cheerful yet not silly, as my prep team does. "I'm Ismene, your stylist."

I nod and stare. She seems relatively normal, compared to most of the Capitol people I've seen. She wears a simple blue dress with pink boots. Her hair is blonde and curly. She has a small hoop in her ear, and a gold tattoo of a bracelet around her upper arm. Her nails are painted with some odd pearl color that catches the light and shoots rainbow patches out around her.

"Well don't talk so loudly!" She laughs, noting my silence.

"What's my costume going to be?" I manage to find my tongue. It better not be horrible. Since I'm from District 8, textiles, our tributes are either draped in quilts or in patchwork whatever. That cannot happen. Four tributes in patchwork ponchos? Ew.

But Ismene just wags a perfect finger at me and smiles again. "All in good time, all in good time," She says. "First off, would you like to be in a chariot with Lisle, Velvet, or Indigo?"

"MInt." My reply is automatic. There is no way Velvet is going to sit in a chariot with Mint. Neither is Indigo. No thank you.

Ismene wrinkles her brow. "Mint?"

"Lisle," I confirm. "She goes by Mint, her middle name."

"Okay then," Ismene claps her hands together. "Any particular reason?"

"She's my sister."

"Your- oh," Ismene bubbly aurora fades a bit.

"Mmhm." I stroke the fabric of my dressing gown, trying not to cry.

"Well," She is quiet. "I'm sorry."

"So am I," I bite my lip. "So am I."

We stay silent for a bit, Ismene probably realizing what having sisters in the arena means. One will die. One may kill the other. I suck in a breath and break the moment.

"My chariot costume?" My voice is clipped now, short and terse. _No more questions, you are not my friend. _It says.

"Yes, yes!" Ismene hops over to the mirror and pulls it back, revealing a small compartment. Inside lays the most extravagant thing I have ever seen.

A soft yet bright pink color, the strapless gown reaches to the floor, with a small train along with it. The bodice is lace, and the full skirt is made of five different fabrics, one after another, all lined up in descending order. Taffeta, tulle, silk, velvet, and cotton. Sounds ugly, but looks gorgeous. The shoes are lavender and have silver needles crossed in an "x" over the toe. A lavender bandana accompanies the ensemble, tying over the head with silver needles to hold the knot in place. It is beautiful.

"I thought you might like it," Ismene smirks at my fazed reaction. "Let's see how it looks on."

Dutifully, I step into the masterpiece and smile as it zips up, fitting my small frame perfectly.

"Thank you," I twirl excitedly, feeling like a giddy teenager, something that doesn't happen often these days. "It's amazing!"

Ismene laughs and leads me over to another room, one that is stocked with brushes, colorful palettes, and liquid. She sits me down in a chair in front of a glowing mirror, and I lift, purse, close, lower whenever she tells me to.

By the end, I have pink lips, curls, sparkling eyeshadow, and no acne left in existence. I am ravishing. Totally beautiful. If only Lace could see me now.

"Auri, time to go," Ismene's sparkling voice creeps into my happily blank mind. "We'll meet the others there."

The others. Oh my God. Suddenly it hits me, sharp, strong, and hard. What happened to Mint? Where did she go? Is she scared? Upset? They had to wash her! She doesn't like undressing! What if she got hurt? Or had a breathing problem in a fit?

I try to voice all of these questions at once, and rush out of the room, prompting Ismene to run after me and grab my shaking arm.

"Auri, calm down!" Her grip is tight. "I know you have stage fright, but it'll be fine! Now come on, slowly this time."

I don't try to explain the real reason why I'm nervous, and just walk as quickly as possible. If anything is wrong, I'll kill myself.

We arrive, late, according to Ismene, and I search the crowd of costumed tributes for Mint. I spot our chariot, pulled by sleek, white horses. I sprint over there, moving as fast as my gown will allow, when a small, dark girl intercepts my path. With her cowgirl getup, I can only assume she's from 10.

"My apolog- I mean, sorry, I's wasn't lookin' to where I's bin goin' and I's a kinda little bits lost," She gives me a gap tooth grin. "I's Carlotta. From ten. Who's you's?"

She is the stupidest girl I've ever met. Grammar, strategy, whatever, you name it. You don't make friends with the tributes. You just don't. Any normal person knows that. She's a walking doormat too. I don't want to talk to her.

"No one of interest." I mumble, and then keep sprinting. Soon I reach the chariot. Beside it is Velvet, in a light blue suit with needles on his tie, and Indigo, in a dress exactly like mine, except blue. I mutter a quick hello, and look around for Mint. Neither of point her out, so I continue my search.

Just then, I hear a faint moan come from the inside of the chariot. I whirl around and hike up my dress, partially oblivious to the hungry eyes of the boy from four. I jump into the pink chariot and my heart stops. At the bottom of the chariot, eyes half closed, skinny arms curled to her small chest, legs dangling useless without her wheelchair, is my sister. Mint.

**Hey y'all! Thanks for reading! This chapter ended on kind of a cliffhanger, sorry to do that to you guys. Hopefully I'll have time to write lots and lots over the weekend! Here are some questions I'd love for you to answer! Please review, review, review!**

**1) What do you think of Auri's stylist and prep-team?**

**2) Do you see any alliances (Not Auri and Mint or Auri and Carlotta) that you may want?**

**3) Any other comments? Ideas? etc.?**

**Thanks for being the best!**

**xoxo**

**Julia**


	14. Chapter 14: The Chariots

I give a strangled gasp and drop down to all fours, checking for a pulse, for a breath, for anything. I reach two trembling fingers up to her pale, slim neck, and feel the heartbeat. I let out a breath. She isn't dead. Just hurt. Or sleeping. Or passed out.

"Minty?" I whisper, nervously. "Minty? Are you okay?"

Her eyelashes seem to flutter a bit.

"Mint? What's going on?"

Her eyes snap open, clear and green, normal.

"Mint? Mint!" I lean down and pull her up.

She looks at me and then begins to cry. Silent, fat tears race down her hollow cheeks, the happiness robbed from her eyes.

"Minty? What's wrong?" I hug her tightly and stroke her hair, curly like mine.

Then, over the course of twenty minutes, through charades and signs and tears and screams, Mint tells me her story.

After we left the train, we were taken to separate rooms to be primped and beautified. Mint was taken by two men and one lady. Odelia, Saburo, and Urik. They acted as if she had some deadly disease and couldn't understand a word they were saying. They spoke about how weird she was, how ugly she was, and how she wouldn't last a day. After the primping and prepping was over, they took away her wheelchair, muttering about orders from Snow and such. Her stylist came in, silently curled her hair, put makeup on her, and showed her her dress. Then he left. She struggled to get into the simple shift dress with patches of different pink fabric all over it, but it was pretty much useless. Finally, Tia walked by and helped her to get into the dress and then over to the chariot. Tia left her propped up on the edge, near the horses. She was perfectly fine, a bit nervous, worried about me, but then two of the careers and Velvet, who apparently struck an alliance with their pack, came over and began to tease her. The teasing turned to tormenting, and the tormenting turned to violence. The boy, Victor, and the girl, Terra, pinched and pulled her hair, and then Velvet, bored, came in and punched her twice. On the third blow, his fist made contact with her head, and she blacked out. She then heard my voice, panicked, and woke-up.

I grow madder and madder with each word. Yes I knew Velvet was a despicable human being, but still. Seriously. My fists clench, whiter and whiter with each passing second. Nobody can do that to my sister. Nobody.

But I can't do anything without getting caught, so I reassure myself and Mint at the same time.

"I'll kill them in the arena, okay?" It's not said with any humor, but Mint smiles.

_K. _She signs.

I hoist her up and dust off her dress. It really is pretty, and matches mine perfectly. I wipe the tears off of her pale, pink-streaked face and sit on the edge of the chariot, Mint in my lap. I catch Indigo watching us from time to time, a troubled look resting on her dark face. Before either one of us can do or say anything, someone shouts, and District One climbs into their two chariots.

I turn away from Indigo's steely gaze and hold Mint, propping her up on my hip, waiting for our chariot to enter the throng of cheering people. When it finally does start moving, Mint panics.

"Aack?" She looks at me. "Uhhck! Ah! Umph!" She starts screeching and wrestling with me. With only a few seconds before we enter, a few seconds before the first impression on our possible sponsors, I do the only thing I can. I talk.

"Mint," I am quiet and firm. "Stop that. You aren't two. You're a young lady, and this may be the only time the citizens with money_- with money- _will ever judge you. You want them to like you. So hush up and act your age!"

Mint stares at me, probably shocked at my lecture, possibly the first one I've ever given her.

_Fine. _She signs, glaring. _I do better you. _

I suppress a smile. "Your on!" I smack her playfully. "Whichever person has their names chanted loudest by the Capitol wins. Deal?"

_Done. _Mint then turns away.

Suddenly, the chariot lurches forward. I glare at Velvet as he passes by, and he smirks at me in return. At the same time, we both mouth, _You're dead. _

I stare stonily after Indigo and Velvet's chariot, and readjust Mint on my right hip. I barely notice as we approach the huge red curtain separating the tributes and pathway of screaming Capitol men and women. But then I do.

It swings open, and suddenly, we are racing through the street, with people right and left chanting our names. Remembering my deal with Mint, I begin to smile, wave, blow kisses, and even give coy little winks.

Mint does the same. She kicks her legs in delight, waves both arms around in wild, unorthodox circles, and puts them both to her mouth for one, giant kiss. When District Nine enters behind us, no one cares or notices.

It's just us. We stole the show. Or rather, Mint stole the show.

"MINT! MINT! MINT! MINT!" The crowd's cheering has turned her name into a war cry, a non-humanlike sound.

"AURI! AURI! AURI! AURI!" Cries of my name fill the air as well.

For a moment, I forget about the games, about Velvet, about killing Mint, about anything. I just feel the rush of air, the feel of fame, of luxury, of freedom. But I'm not free. No. I'm far from it.

With a crunching jolt, we come to a halt, the colorful chariots forming a half circle. I take a moment to observe the other tributes.

The girl from three, the small one, stands still, looking overwhelmed and terrified. Her dress is short and skimpy, which is odd, considering her young age. It seems to be made entirely of wires.

One girl from seven, the slim, blonde one, doesn't stop moving. She wears a sundress with leaf patterns all over it. Her legs have brown things I suppose to be roots climbing around them. And her legs. As far as I know, I'm the only chariot that can see what she's doing. She goes up on her toes, walks tiny steps, then turns in a pirouette. I haven't seen anyone move that beautifully for a long time.

The boy from Nine looks uncomfortable, standing next to the ginger beauty. She is constantly flipping her hair and then looking seductively through her eyelashes, but it has no effect on him. His outfit is like woven gold. armor, wheat pants. With his dark, dark skin and jet black hair, I have to admire the look on him.

The girl from Eleven, the fat one, squirms around like a little worm. She is standing next to a tall, willowy girl who has a pinched, sour look on her face, as if she just tasted a lemon. The fat girl keeps tapping her and saying things with the expression of a goody-goody. The outfit the stylist has placed her in only accents her bulging stomach, cheeks, and stubby legs. It is green, with flower petals scattered in her hair. I watch the strange duo, though one of the members does not look happy.

Then I turn to see the four tributes from Twelve, and inwardly, I cringe for them. Completely naked and covered in coal dust. Completely. The first girl, one who seems to be humming and tapping out rhythms on her thigh, is trying to sing and cover herself at the same time. My eyes pass right over the second girl, who seems to be attempting to shrink into nothingness. The third girl, a pretty blonde, keeps smiling and waving at certain people in the crowd. At one point, she was thrown a note, read it, and nodded in the direction of the thrower. She makes no attempt to cover herself, and seems used to it. The boy looks violated. The scars on his back stand out bright with against the dark powder. District 12 has always been odd.

Ephellius ascends the podium, and a silence falls over the crowd. With his young stature and handsome face, many of the women in the Capitol have been swooning over him, according to Alecta, that is. He is handsome, and I'll give him that. Curly, dark hair, muscular, perfectly trimmed beard. Natural blue eyes, and no ring on his fourth finger. The ideal man, to a Capitol girl or boy.

"Tributes!" He raises a gloved hand. "We welcome you!"

Immense cheering.

"We salute your honor, your courage, and your sacrifice!"

Yeah, right.

"Happy Hunger Games! And, may the odds be ever in your favor!"

No, Snow. The odds are not in my favor.

The circle breaks, the chariots move out.

**Hey y'all! Thanks for reading and reviewing! I'm trying to decide whether or not to use different points of view, and I think I'm on the brink of saying yes. What do you think? Please review and tell me! Thanks!**

**Here are some questions:**

**1) If I end up doing different POV, who do you think I should do first?**

**2) Any thoughts on Velvet and Auri?**

**3) Questions? Comments? Ideas?**

**Thanks for being the best!**

**xoxo**

**Julia**


	15. Chapter 15: Mint

**Mint's POV**

Auri pulls me out of the chariot and onto her hip once more. I like that. It makes me feel safe.

I burry my face in her blonde hair. Like always, it smells like sweet, fresh violets.

I faintly hear something behind me, and try to turn my head slowly. Instead, as usual, it moves wildly and wobbles.

Behind me is the Boy With The Spiky Hair. The Girl With The Knife. And Velvet. The ones who hurt me.

I try to whisper how scared I am into Auri's ear but I can't. My vocal cords and legs and arms take a different approach.

Before I know it, they are swinging wildly, and I am screaming, despite Auri's lecture.

Everyone turns and looks at me. I want to hide, to fall through the floor, but I can't. I can't even stop.

Auri pulls my head back into her shoulder and I feel her turn, though I can only see the blonde muss.

"Get away," Her voice, like always is soothing and soft, and, like always, I can barely hear it. It's faint, like she lives in another world.

"Who's gonna make us?" The Boy With The Spiky Hair taunts her, his voice sharp yet quiet, like I'm submerged under water.

"The President of Panem." A different voice chimes in. This one is buttery, smooth, silky, like slime.

Auri's body turns again, and I lift my head up to see this speaker. He has brown hair, blue eyes, and is young.

White gloves cover his hands. A guard stands behind him. He must be the President.

"Now, now, children," He lays a hand on my back. It's supposed to be comforting, but makes me uneasy.

"Fighting before the games is against the rules, isn't it," It isn't a question. "Isn't it?" Now it is.

"Yes," Everyone says. I can feel Auri shaking with fear.

"Now then," He continues, his ocean eyes boring into my own, peeking at my soul. "If you fight, I'll be forced to turn you into avoxes, or torture you, or make you- iaoseuposaiuf dsjkfsakjdhfjkbakeruhghisojdkjfbgualih;jwlsknd."

Auri claps her hands over my ears, making everything a jumble and garble. She unclasps them just as I hear, "Yes, sir." Their voices are dull, muted.

Then the President of Panem pats my cheek, pinches me, a little too hard to be nice, and leaves.

Auri sighs with relief and places my face back into her shoulder, probably so I don't see anything else that will scare me.

I hear the ding of an elevator, and suddenly the floor lurches up. My ears hurt, so I try to ask Auri to stop it.

Instead I start crying. Why do I do that? I am not two. Why can't I talk when I want something? And for God sakes, where is my wheelchair?

Auri pats my hair down and wipes the trickles off my face. Through blurry vision, I can only see two others in the elevator. Eve and Harmony.

I memorized everyone's names.

Eve stands hunched over, her arms wrapped around herself, like any minute she's going to freeze.

Harmony stands still, tapping something on her thigh, and humming something beautiful that I've never heard before.

I pull myself together, with much effort, and talk to them.

"I'm Mint."

They don't even look at me. They must not have heard me.

"I'M MINT!" I yell.

Eve's eyes flicker upwards, but then back down.

I ask Auri, "Why can't they hear me?"

"Honey," She says. "You're using signs. Remember what a sign is?"

"Remember how old I am?"

Auri looks taken aback.

"Sorry," She says.

"Well tell them what I'm saying. I want to talk."

"Okay."

Auri's water voice comes in again, the sharp sound disappearing.

_Hi. I'm Auri. This is Mint. She wanted to say hello. _

_Oh. _Eve sighs.

_Mmm._ Harmony could be responding or singing.

_What are your names?_ Auri is encouraging and warm.

_Eve, _Says Eve.

_Harmony. _Says Harmony.

_Those are pretty names. _Auri smiles.

_Thanks, _Eve is like a tiny mouse. _Yours are too. _

The elevator dings, and Auri steps out, calling a quick goodbye to Harmony and Eve.

I wave, trying to be subtle, but once again wildly circling my arm.

The two girls don't respond, and I glare.

The doors slide shut, and Auri takes me over to the dinner table, where Damask, Indigo, Jute, and Tia, my only other friend, are sitting.

"Hello," Damask's voice is sharp, but faint and muted. "Sit."

Auri straps me into a chair that I suppose they brought for me, and then sits down herself.

The conversation moves on, but I remain in my Other World. The one where I'm with Mommy, Emalia, and Gillian. The one where we are together, and I won't have to die a painful death at the hands of bloodthirsty children.

My Other World is going great. First I wake up, in a soft, warm bed, and then Mommy dresses me.

She sings my favorite lullaby, the one that is about the ocean. She always sings it in hushed tones, like if any other person could hear it, she would get into trouble. I suppose she could have, it being an old, pre-Panem one.

_My bonnie lies over the ocean;_

_My bonnie lies over the sea;_

_My bonnie lies over the ocean;_

_Oh bring back my bonnie to me;_

_Bring back, bring back, bring back my bonnie to me;_

_Bring back, bring back, bring back my bonnie to me._

And so on. Then she takes me outside in my wheelchair, and Gillian, Emalia, and Auri all come on a walk through a pink and green meadow, one I've never seen before.

Then a beautiful building appears in the distance. It's made out of jewels and flowers, and inside are sweets and foods galore. Books lie on tables, and toys are scattered on the floor. We run inside, and I suddenly realize that I too can walk. I leap up from the wooden contraption and race ahead. We have a picnic outside, and all of the girls from school come. They all race me but no one is faster. Then we giggle and tell secrets all afternoon. Every one wants to be my friend, and I turn no girl down. Gillian and Emalia and Auri decide to put on a show for us, and we all laugh at their acts. Emalia starts seriously, but then runs into a tree, and completely loses her staid manner. Suddenly, we hear a sound; It's the patter of feet. Along comes a man, and with a laugh, I remember him. He's my father! He came back, and we all start walking home. I hold his hand, and he tells me how pretty and sweet I am. I smile and-

_Hello Velvet. _Jute's voice speaks quietly. I shriek, jarred from my fantasy. Velvet. The boy. The Hunger Games. My bruised face.

I begin to shriek and flail, scared, unable to do anything else. I see a crimson avox lean over me, and then there is darkness.

**Oh my gosh! I haven't updated in so long, and I'm really sorry! I hope you enjoy this! **

**Remember, suggestions and reviews are awesome!**

**Thanks for being the best!**

**xoxo**

**Julia**


	16. Chapter 16: District One Private Session

Auri's POV

Velvet is going to slaughter my sister. I don't really know why, but he seems to detest her like no other. First he beats her up, then he scares her at every chance, and today during training, he threatened her. It's too much.

Apparently, Mint is not allowed to have a wheelchair, so I have to carry her everywhere.

The next two days of training fly by, and soon I am called to do a private session with the gamemakers. I picked up nothing. Yes, I can climb, start fires, choose which berries are edible and which aren't, but I can't do anything with a weapon, and everyone knows that that's what the gamemakers like. I need a high score. High scores bring sponsors, sponsors bring supplies, supplies bring Mint survival.

I don't know how Mint will get into her session, how she will move and show talent, how she will get out when they dismiss her. I go right after, so I won't be seeing her. I take a deep breath and close my eyes. It will work out. Right?

I sit with Mint in my lap, stroking her frizzy hair. Before long, the District One boy is called in, and the waiting begins.

No POV

Valour cracks his knuckles, musses his blonde hair, and struts with the attitude of a particularly brightly colored peacock into the training room.

"Valour Gates, District One!" Valour shouts with confidence, winking at the ladies in his awed audience.

He then jogs over to the axe station. He throws for a while, always hitting a heart, head, or heck. Sensing boredom, he then uses sheer strength to pull his muscular body up along the ropes.

He reaches the end of the line, grabs onto one of the several metal poles on the ceiling, grasps it, soars up through the air, does a flip, and lands in a forward roll. Quickly he flings the axe once more at the target, but it misses, and instead lodges itself in the middle of a tree at the camouflage station.

The Gamemakers applaud his seemingly intentional stunt. Valour thanks the gods for luck, gets up, gives a blinding smile at the ladies, and swaggers out the other door.

He must have scored at least a ten, surely not less than a nine.

Valour's score: 10

Sapphire struts in. She gazes around, puts a finger to her lips, trying to figure out what Valour did and how she can top him. Or, better, look like they had a plan and are a love interest.

Eventually, she tosses her curls and cocks a hip.

"Sapphire Crys, District One, and your new favorite Victor, duh." She tilts her head sweetly, but the Gamemakers see the poison in the sweetness.

"Anyways, let's get this sexy show on the road, hmm?"

Sapphire doesn't wait for an answer. She leaps over to the knives and throws one, two, three, four, FIVE. The fifth one flies out of her grasp, hits the heel of another knife on the target, forcing it in deeper, and then flies back to her hand. She catches it effortlessly.

The Gamemakers, Sapphire knows, would have been perfectly happy with this, but she continues.

"So," Sapphire faces the judges. "Careers are supposed to depend on sponsors and gifts, hmm?"

No one answers. Undeterred, Sapphire continues. "I can survive out there, dontcha think I could, hmm?"

She races to the shelter building station, and carefully but quickly makes a comfortable, moveable, rain-proof building. She then smiles and says, "Oh no! My enemy is coming, but I don't have my weapon!" Sapphire breaks a stick off of the contraption and throws it. It hits the force field that separates her from the Gamemakers, and a resounding wave of sound and movement wobbles the area.

"I'm going to win these games," Sapphire's voice is quiet. "You better believe it."

She turns, flashes a smile, blows a kiss, and struts out.

Sapphire: 11.

Maia nervously walks in. She's not really a career, and gave up training a while ago, but pretended she went. That way her father wouldn't beat her.

"Hi, I'm Maia." She musters up her confidence. _Smooth and arrogant, smooth and arrogant,_ becomes her mantra. "District One." She even winks, but then feels disgusted with herself.

"Anyways, I'm here to kick some serious you-know-what. Enjoy the show." That was arrogant, right? Maia flips her pale brown hair and walks over to the maces. She pretends to stroke it lovingly, and then picks it up. She lets the daydream eyes take over, as if dreaming of killing and maiming.

She swings it around her head, and then releases it at the precise time, allowing it to fly across the room, and then knocking around twelve rocks off the rock wall.

The control, the precision, the adrenaline. No, she won't kill, but Maia has to admit to herself, weapons are her thing. They make her feel like she has everything in her hand, like she can decide what will happen in life.

She throws three more, one exploding the rocks at the camouflage, one landing in the extra bucket of berries and causing it to fly everywhere, and the last bringing down the net.

As she takes her leave, she notices red-clad avoxes being shoved in to clean up her mess.

Oh well.

Maia: 9.

Radi is the last of the District One tributes. Twelve and tiny but totally psychotic, Radiance knows exactly what will happen in her training session.

Without a simple hello, she snaps her fingers. "One, female, lets do this."

She sprints over to the weapons, grabs a sword and a knife, and then leaps on a young avox, who tries to cling to an older lady, presumed to be her mother. Dragging the girl by her ponytail, Radiance centers her, so the Gamemakers have a good view. She uses her knees to pin the squirming girl to the floor, and then looks up to the Gamemakers.

"May I?"

The avox tilts her head so far back so she can see their response, and when the head flicks his fingers and leans forward to get a better view, the girl lets out a scream. It is thick, guttural, and inhuman. Radi laughs.

"Ooh, look who's scared!" She croons, cutting off a few strands of the girl's hair with her knife. "Any last words? Oh wait, my mistake!"

Radiance giggles and chokes. Tears stream down her face, though the joke had no humor. She pulls herself together and begins.

The avox screams with pains and wriggles and cries, and the Gamemakers watch as this twelve year old licks the girl and savors the taste of her blood, tears, and pain.

When Radiance stands up and declares her masterpiece finished, the girl is alive. She is not human, but she is alive, and most likely, she will survive. No one will ever want to look at her.

Her eyes are gone. Her teeth are gone. Her ears and nose are there, but her earlobes cut off, and her nose slashed. Her body is scared. There are cuts and bruises everywhere. Her hands are gone. Her toes are gone. Her hair was jaggedly cut off, and there are lines of blood one her scalp. She has been stripped of her clothing, and her back is covered in seven deep, wide, gashes. She is curled into a ball. She resembles a mutt more than a girl.

Radiance bows. "Look forward to that in the games. If not better. Au revoir!" Radiance leaves, but not before she sees the mother rush to the girl on the floor. And she can't resist.

A knife skims along the woman's cheek and leaves a deep gash. The woman clutches her face and loses her balance, falling on the young girl, who is crushed under the lady's weight, and lets out another scream of pain as the knife stuck in the mother's cheek falls out and pins the young girl's arm to the floor, leaving a wide hole in the arm. The mother tries to pull it out, but instead just widens the hole, prompting three short, shrill, high-pitched shrieks from the young girl.

The Gamemakers are laughing.

"Tata!" And Radiance is gone.

Radiance: 11

**I'm so sorry I haven't updated! I hope my readers are still there... somewhere...? Anyways, more chapters like this are coming soon (training sessions I mean) I hope you enjoyed!**

**Some questions:**

**1) Which tribute from One do you want to see more of?**

**2) Who do you like the best from One? Why?**

**3) Suggestions? Comments? Critics?**

**Thanks for being the best!**

**xoxo**

**Julia**


	17. Chapter 17: District Two Private Session

No POV

Terra walks into the room, ready. She spins in a circle, allowing the Gamemakers to observe her. Then she grins, scarily, but friendly.

"Terra Burns. Vicious, strong, leader, winner. District Two."

She spins on her heels and jogs to the knives, true to her reaping stance.

Slowly, carefully, she draws seven. So slowly. Almost for thirty seconds, she draws the knives and puts them into her hands. Then, suddenly, without warning, she throws all seven, each one hitting a different target, dummy, light, spears, force field, shelter, ropes course, barely alive girl on the floor who seems to be trying to inch her way across to another avox. Wait what?

Radiance. That's who was in before her. And Terra is no idiot. When the last knife manages to pin the girl's other arm, the one without a hole, to the floor, Terra realizes Radi has to be in on their alliance. Terra had refused her before, but Radiance seemed to be making a point. Anyone capable of this could hurt her chances to win.

Although she is small, Radiance is clever. If she isn't accepted, she will set traps. Okay. Looks like a psycho is joining the careers.

Terra turns her back on the girl and bows.

"Someone please move that girl out of here," Terra grins. "It's kind of disconcerting. Please?" Then she leaves.

Terra: 10.

Victor enters the room, and heads straight to the swords. He messes up his blonde hair and looks to the adoring audiance.

"Hey," he winks. "Victor the Victor, at your service. Gimme the best sword fighter you got."

He then turns and grabs a steel sword, the one he had his eye on earlier in the day. It is long, nearly three feet in length. Sharp, metallic, powerful. And he wants it in the games. Victor has to get good sponsors, and has to get a good training score. Then this beauty will be sent to him, and he can kill that bothersome Sapphire and that psycho Radiance.

Victor turns to face his opponent. The man he's up against is huge, with bulging muscles and a sneer that could melt stone.

"Ready pretty-boy?" The man smirks.

"Ready!" Victor snaps his wrist and lunges.

They fight for a while, metal against metal, but Victor is the one keeping things interesting. Leap, flip, dive under the hulk's legs, fancy moves that serve no purpose. After fierce combat, Victor turns and runs, jumps up onto the ropes, and tackles the man.

Victor presses the sword to the man's throat, and smiles. Then he cuts the man's wrist, ever so slightly, just so it draws enough blood for him to be declared winner.

"Another Victory for me!" Victor helps the man up and pats his back. "Thanks!"

Then he grabs a medicine ball, throws it at the snare station, knocking several things over, and leaves.

Victor: 10.

Styx stumbles in, a little breathless, a little ready.

"Um," gasp. "My name is…" gasp. "Styx Melard…" gasp. "Here to…" gasp. "Win and kill some people."

She regains her composure and goes to bow and arrows. She shoots several times and never misses. But she is boring. She doesn't do anything but shoot perfectly, over and over.

"Um," a Gamemaker waves her arm. "I think I can speak for everyone in saying that you're boring and we're through with this whole session."

"Come on," Styx pleads. "I just freaking got here."

A few murmurs run through the Gamemakers, but Styx can't tell who is upset with who. So she plays it safe, knowing that it doesn't matter what they think of her here. Because she'll probably win and become a Victor.

"Whatever," she glares. "But don't think for a second that I won't be able to win. 'Cause guess who's coming out of that arena? Give you a hint: Me."

Then she leaves.

Styx: 9.

Ashlar walks in, poses left, right, and whispers, "Call me!"

Then she smiles. "Ashlar Grammel, District 2. Just because I'm not a career doesn't mean I don't have other ways of winning." She gestures to her thin and impeccably perfect figure.

Then she walks to the sling shot station. Hits the target every time, even with a burning match or a knife.

Then she walks to the scythe station. Cuts off the dummies heads, screaming a war cry that makes the hair on the back of the Gamemaker's neck stand up.

Then she walks to the berry station. She doesn't miss any.

"Ta da! See you later!"

Then she leaves.

Ashlar: 8.

**Hey Readers! I am so excited for winter, Christmas, and the whole cooking thing! So, since I'm finally out of school, I'll be updating a lot more than usual. Also, I'm planning on creating a SYOT, and if you want it to be another Quarter Quell, review and tell me! It won't be in progress for a while, but just thought I'd give y'all a heads up. **

**So! What did you think? Who's your favorite? Questions, Comments, Critics?**

**Thanks for being the best!**

**xoxo**

** Julia**


	18. Chapter 18: District 3 Private Sessions

No POV

Lanni walks in, hesitant, clutching her pigtails in her thin fists.

"I'm Lanni. Hi. And um, I'm from District Three?" She tries to sound brave, but knows she is failing. When one of the Gamemakers laughs, she expertly hides the thin tear, that, like everything else about her, is thin.

"Um, okay?" One of the crueler Gamemakers imitates her hesitancy and cowardice. "Why don't you, um, show us what you can do?"

Lanni wheels around, trying to block the word bullets that crash into her skull. With small strides, she starts to go to the fire station. That's where she stays, the entire session. Starting fire after fire, failing three out of seven times.

"I'm done." Lanni turns to face the bored Gamemakers. "Can I go?"

"Yes, um, you can, um, I mean, you'll get, um, a low score?"

Something inside her snaps, and Lanni feels red, molten anger rush into every corner of her body.

She leans over, grabs a knife, though she's never used one before, and throws it. Propelled by the storm of her anger, the knife wedges itself on the ceiling, and plaster shatters down around her.

"SHUT UP! YOU'RE ALL SICK, YOU KNOW THAT? YOU DON'T HAVE TO LEAVE YOUR FAMILY AND DIE! YOU DON'T HAVE TO KILL A BUNCH OF KIDS YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW! I HATE ALL OF YOU AND THE FREAKING HUNGER GAMES AND THE CAPITOL!"

She pauses and breathes deeply for a minute. "Bullies pick on people to make themselves feel better. What's wrong in your lives? Why do you feel bad about yourselves? Oh, wait, BECAUSE YOU MAKE A BUNCH OF FREAKING TEENAGERS FREAKING FIGHT TO THE FREAKING DEATH!"

Then she leaves. Oh shoot, was she ever going to get it.

Lanni: 12.

Cordin walks in, nervous. His quick brain analyzes what tiny, harmless Lanni just did. The Gamemakers appear flustered and mad, some are scribbling on sheets some are yelling at each other, some are staring stonily at the door that Lanni just exited from.

Whatever she did, it couldn't have been good. Good. Cordin feels relief sweep his body. Once the Gamemakers kill his ally, he won't have to worry about guilt. A Gamemaker death is better than a traitorous death at night.

He won't have to stab his ally in the back. Literally.

"Hello there. I greet you now as friends, just to show you the ways of my brain." Cordin looks for a reaction, and only gets confusion.

"Ah, I see those minds of yours are muddled. Now, what I mean to tell you is that the key to success in the arena does not just lie with weapon skill. Rather, brains can get you far. So, what I mean to tell you is," Cordin smiles as he polishes his glasses. "Give me a puzzle; I'll solve it for you."

The Gamemakers stare. Obviously, no one has ever done this before. Then a man at the very back raises a hand.

"I'd, personally, like to see you make a death trap out of only the ropes, and wire. Nothing else tangible may be used." He's smirking, like he knows it's impossible.

Cordin runs over and grabs the said items. He makes a net out of rope, and then shakily climbs up with it in hand on the ropes course hanging high above the ground. Then he ties a loose rope to the course.

"You see," Cordin waves. "Once I drop this net on an unsuspecting tribute, I will be able to suspend them from the trees."

He drops the net, and gestures to its egg-like shape.

"Then, the poor tribute will be ensnared. I will then circle the net with wire," He jumps down and does so.

"And, in this case, with electricity, I will throw the wire into the force field."

He does so, and the next burns, engulfed in flames.

"And that, my friends, is the sound of a cannon."

Cordin: 8.

Futura waltzes in.

"Futura, 3."

She is over this. She can't wait to go to heaven, where everything will be organized and clean and scheduled. Obviously she won't win, and in heaven, she can have things the way she likes them. Perfect.

Futura doesn't even try. She makes a snare, handles a spear badly, mixes up a lot of berries, and smiles.

"It doesn't matter," The Gamemakers can hear her smiling whispers. "Everything will be perfect once you die."

Futura: 3

Dayta bounds in, happy and ready for something new to do. Sure training was fun, but it got boring. She devoured the knowledge at every station, practicing until it was almost perfect.

She memorized how to make snares, how to light a fire, how to build a shelter, how to throw knives, how to climb the rock wall, how to camouflage herself, how to dress wounds, and how to shoot a slingshot. So, you could say she was ready.

"I'm Dayta! I'm from District 3!" she beamed at her audience, eager to please and ready to begin.

"Great. Now show us what you can do." The Gamemaker's attitude was dry, sarcastic, but it didn't faze Dayta. She just smiled, nodded, and went to work showing all of her skills.

Weapons were first. Everyone knew that that was what the Gamemakers loved to see.

Dayta jogged to the knives. She threw five, three hitting the dummy, two missing. A little mad with herself, she flung down the last two and stalked over to the bows. She shot six times, missing four and hitting twice. Angrier, she ran over to the rock wall. She climbed three-quarters of the way up, and then she fell onto the soft padding below her.

Letting out a frustrated scream, Dayta stood up and went to the snare section. She built a contraption that would leave her competitor hanging by their ankle, but failed, and when she stood up to demonstrate, her snare loosened and dropped the dummy.

Screaming with rage, Dayta moved back to the center of the room.

"I don't even know what happened, but I'm done. I- I don't know. It's just- whatever."

Then she stomped out, pounding the walls as she left.

Dayta: 4

**I hope you're enjoying these! If you have any ideas for interesting things the tributes can do, anything you believe their character might do, or just ideas for the arena and the Games, please, please, please PM me. I'd be happy to hear from you. In the meantime, leave lots of reviews!**

**Thanks for being the best!**

**xoxo**

** Julia**


	19. Chapter 19: District 4 Private Session

Roman strides in, his critical eyes sizing everything up. He puts on a fierce scowl and flexes his bulging muscles. Sometimes it's hard being intimidating, but it'll be worth it once he's a victor.

"Roman, District 4." He relished the way his low and strong voice echoed through the room, how the weaker looking Gamemakers seemed to shrink in his presence.

Roman grinned cockily and moved to the tridents, throwing five times, each one hitting a vital organ of the dummy. Fake blood spurted out, and he smiled.

Roman moved to the spear station and threw seven, each one at a target, but the last whizzing towards the snare sections and cutting down a pathetic excuse for a snare. The spear, moving with such acceleration and speed, went through the wall, cracking the plaster and creating a fair sized hole.

Though he had only been in the room for three minutes tops, Roman sensed he had made his impression, and it certainly was a good one. He smirked, waved an arm, and strode out.

Roman: 11

Sedna walks in and rolls her eyes at the hole in the wall. Roman's doing probably. Who else could be strong, handsome, and cool enough to-

No, no, no. She could _not_ be developing feelings for that arrogant monster. Besides, he already liked her, and Monique had threatened to stab her in the back if she liked him back, because "We're dating, as he's probably already told you". Riiiight. But she didn't. She _was_ going to make it back home to Maria.

She had _promised. _

"Sedna, District 4." She focused on the Gamemakers.

Sedna moved to the axes. Most people thought that District 4 careers knew only about spears, nets, and tridents, and, for the most part, that was true. But Sedna, cultivating her individuality, trained with axes, and was very good at it.

She picked one up, weighing it in her hand, and threw it, hard, with a sort of battle cry issuing from her perfect lips.

It stuck onto the camouflage tree, and after a few seconds, the tree groaned and fell over. Sedna pretended like she knew it was going to happen. She smiled perkily and took up two more, one in each hand.

These flew out at the exact same time, and stuck on different targets, each one on the heart. Fake blood issued from the dummies, and Sedna's stomach lurched. Black spots clouded her eyes, and she began to hyperventilate. She was vaguely aware of the Gamemakers watching and realizing what she was going on about.

Sedna couldn't kill. Blood terrified her, and taking the life of another made her sick. She managed to stand again, the voices she put in her head chanting, _for Maria. For Maria. _

Sedna wiped her sweaty palms and left.

Sedna: 9

Brooke scuttled in. She had trained, apart from the careers. She would never be part of them. She isn't good enough. She isn't vicious. She isn't pretty. She will bring nothing but trouble to their pack, so they forced her away.

Anger took hold, and Brooke resolved to get the highest training score possible. To show them up and to have them accept her. And if they didn't accept her, she would kill them all. For revenge, not for the savage pleasure of gore and killing.

"Brooke, of District 4, better than anyone who's shown you anything today." To the Gamemakers, she appears cocky, but to herself, she's simply stating the truth.

Brooke spins on her heel and walks over to the spears. One after another hit each target perfectly, rewarding her with a gasp from the Gamemakers, when it pins a single berry to the wall, or a burst of blood, when it hits a dummy.

After five minutes, she tucks a spear into its shaft and climbs the rock wall. She then jumps down, and as she is falling through the air, she throws the spear, and it hits the force field, flies out away from it, and she catches it, just as she hits the ground.

"Thank you," Brooke smiles. "I'll be leaving now."

Oh, she is so ready.

Brooke: 11

Monique tries to strut in, but ends up looking like a drunk peacock. To the Gamemakers at least. To herself, she envisions a sultry model, who could totally get anything she wanted.

"Hey there," She has made her voice low, hoarse, a contrast to her normally peppy, high tones. "I'm Monique, District 4. I'll be your winner, and by the way, I'm Roman's girlfriend."

She isn't.

She winks, and it appears that her eye is having a muscle spasm. Monique, the girl who nobody thought was close to pretty, but she believed it so much, that she somehow convinces herself, every time she looks in the mirror, that pale, clammy skin, bluntly cut, basically colorless hair, and transparent gray eyes, are the definition of beautiful.

Monique "struts" over to the bows and arrows, and shoots five times, each one hitting the target, but in non-vital places, such as the leg, ankle, and hand.

Monique doesn't mind, because she knows that the Gamemakers will give her a good score, because of her relationship with the toughest tribute out there, and her good looks. She winks again and moves to the tridents.

Once more, each one hits, but in non-vital places. The last one she throws misses the dummy completely, and instead hits the one behind it, but just barely.

Thinking she meant to miss and hit a harder target, Monique turns and smiles. But the Gamemakers, who have been trained in weapons and have judged many tributes before Monique, look at one another.

That was a mistake, and they know it.

Monique beams, taking their gazes and scribbles on clipboards as praise and thoughts of, _This girl is going to win the Games! Who else could with her in the arena? Gosh, she's so beautiful and sexy. She sure deserves to be with Roman. Who else would? I bet she'll lead the careers! She is so…_

And on, and on.

Deciding she has succeeded, Monique grins once more and leaves.

"Good-bye!" Her hoarse voice returns.

Too bad she didn't hear the laughter of the Gamemakers echoing around the place where she stood. That would have set her straight.

Monique: 7

**Hello! I'd like to thanks those of you who PM-ed me about your ideas for the arena. I've decided on one that I think is really cool. Anyways, as always, I have some questions for y'all.**

**1) Who is your favorite, and why?**

**2) Any more ideas about characters, like enemies, who should ally with who, etc.**

**3) Questions? Comments? Ideas? Critics?**

**Thanks for being the best!**

**xoxo**

**Julia**


	20. Chapter 20: District 5 Private Sessions

Spark tentatively walks in, shy and frightened. Training made her regret volunteering. At least Nina was pretty, and smart, and talented. Spark was none of these, except maybe a bit smart.

She had thought up a routine to impress the Gamemakers. With her tiny body, speed, and nimbleness, Spark thought she may be able to grab a knife, hide, and then, while the Gamemakers were wondering where she was, climb up onto the ropes course and throw the knife. It would whiz to the force field, hit the right spot, and make a large booming noise. The noise would startle the Gamemakers, and as they were looking around, Spark would drop from the ropes, bow, and walk out.

She scurried in, and snatched a knife up. Then she hid behind the bush at the snare station, which was close to the start of the ropes course.

"Where is District 5?"

"Who's supposed to come first?"

"That tiny girl, right? The one who volunteered for the eighteen year old?"

"Maybe she's too scared to show up?"

"Let's give her a one."

"If she doesn't show up, she'll get a zero."

Now. It was time. Spark ran up the ropes, leaped to the middle, and hung on her stomach. The Gamemakers continued to talk and argue.

"Should we let the next one in?"

"We don't have time for this!"

"Kill her when she get's into that arena!"

"Give her a twelve. Then we won't have to do the dirty work. The careers will."

Spark smiled, but then, remembering where she was, and how this wasn't a joke, the smile fell off her face.

It was time to throw the knife. Taking aim carefully, Spark reached back her arm and closed one eye. Then she opened it, flung her arm forward, and let go. The knife hit a shimmering patch of air, and a loud popping noise filled the room.

"What was that?"

"Something malfunctioned, or, or,"

"Look! There's a knife right their! Where the heck did that come from?!"

Time to finish this whole thing. Spark expertly moved through a hole in the ropes, hung by her arms, and the dropped. She landed perfectly, on her feet.

She bowed.

She left, giddy with success, leaving the Gamemakers and their total confusion behind her.

"Was she here the whole time?"

Spark: 9

Vida scurried in. This was going to be awful. She skipped the introduction, and ignore the cold stares behind her.

"Who are you?" A Gamemaker smirked at her as she turned around. They knew perfectly well who she was. But whatever.

"Vida. Oph Dithtrict Phive." The yellow teeth that protruded from her wide mouth made her talk oddly. Mostly she didn't have to talk, but these people were cruel, and they would make fun of her.

"Show us what you can do." The Gamemaker seemed to be holding in laughter.

Vida nodded and began to light a fire. She used only flint and wood, something she had worked on for a long time. When it began to blaze, she grinned with success, but then shut her mouth. She still had seven minutes to kill.

She moved over to the berry station, and only missed two types. Those two types could kill her though, and she knew it. Six minutes to kill.

Vida walked to the camouflage station, but then thought better of it, and in mid-stride, she turned in the opposite direction, and began walking to the rock wall. She made it up all the way, and didn't slip at all. 3 minutes to kill.

She still had the vague idea that the Gamemakers were laughing at her. It was because of her lisp, and, most likely, her looks. She wasn't very blessed in that department, but it shouldn't matter. But it did. Because next to the beauty from one, and the girl from nine, Vida was an absolute mess.

Stewing over these thoughts, Vida ran to the knives. She hadn't worked with knives, and it showed. She hit the target once, on the dummies calf. Useless. No time was left.

"You may leave," The Gamemaker said.

Vida nodded and left the room.

Vida: 5

Isaak shuffled into the room. He was slow and his eyes were lowered. He picked up nothing in training, except for observations about the other tributes. There was nothing to show the Gamemakers. Observations wouldn't help him.

_Isaak. You know their weak spots. _

He looked up, excited, though that emotion refused to move into his face.

"I am Isaak. I am from District Five."

"I don't have any talents, but I know the other tributes' weaknesses. Would you like to hear them?"

Without waiting for an answer, Isaak began.

"Roman from Four hates cats, or anything related to them," The Gamemakers have creases between their brows, and look a bit annoyed. Isaak ploughs on.

"Pepper from Eleven can't run. But you already knew that." His meanness causes the Gamemakers to laugh, and he feels a twinge of guilt.

"Sienna from Six can't speak, and she won't be able to say no to anything." The Gamemakers are taking notes; They will use this information in the arena.

"Eve from Ten is terrified of blood, and faints when she sees it." He is going to get a good score, but at what price? Isaak begins to have second thoughts. But no, he can't turn back now.

"Radiance from One has hallucinations of her sister, who she killed. It is her only weakness." Isaak only knows this because he followed Radiance into the dining hall, and watched her, as she hugged the air and told it she was sorry she had killed her, that if she came back, she would never hurt her again.

"Futura from Three is OCD and will stop to fix anything that is out of place." The Gamemakers, Isaak realizes, are going to kill these people with these fears and facts and secrets. Every Gamemaker induced death that happens will be because of him.

"That is it." Isaak says, and turns to walk away, but is stopped by a Gamemaker.

"No, it isn't," The Gamemaker says dryly. "Tell us about Lanni, or we will kill you in the arena."

Isaak freezes. A threat. An actual threat. For information against the tiny little girl.

"Um," Isaak is regretting this, this cowardice. "Lanni," He is going to tell them, and he will be a coward. A lowly coward. No. Death first.

"I will not." The Gamemakers gasp. "Good day."

And Isaak leaves, death confirmed.

Isaak: 1

Bina strides in, purposeful, ready for action.

"Bina, Five."

She manages to go to each and every station, not one missed. At some she does better than others, but all the same, she is average.

And average isn't good enough.

And she knows it. She sighs, bows and leaves.

Bina: 6

**I think that Bina was the shortest training session I've ever done. Anyways, I've decided to only do around ten interviews. If there are any tributes you would particularly like to see, please PM me, and they will be interviewed! Also, we're getting closer to the Games, so PM me the tributes you want to see survive, and the ones you want to die.**

**Review and thanks for being the best!**

**xoxo**

** Julia**


	21. Chapter 21: District 6 Private Sessions

Carter walks in, sullen and glaring.

"Carter Ford. District Six." He acknowledges the Gamemakers, and then ducks his head

again.

Silently and slowly, Carter walks to the weights. He picks up a large medicine ball and throws it.

Hard.

It crashes into the spears, and they clatter to the floor. He jogs over to the scattered spears, and he tries to throw them. Out of the ten times he throws, Carter only hits the target- at all- twice.

One out of those two times hits a fatal spot.

Discouraged, Carter moves to the snares, and spends the rest of the time fiddling with some rope.

Carter: 5

Demica smiles a sickly sweet smile as she glides into the room.

"Hello, I'm Demica, daughter of Mayor Ford. Surely you've heard of him?" She opens her eyes widely, and tilts her head to the side, conveying the perfect picture of innocence and goodness.

When no one responds, Demica continues. "He's mayor you know, and I do the best I can to help him in his daily duties!"

Still no response, but Demica doesn't notice. Instead, she feels the feeling of self-importance creep into her heart. All other thoughts are wiped from her mind, and she begins a speech.

"For example, there are thieves in our town. Yes, yes, I know it surprises many of you, but it's true! I do my best to help my father catch them, and I actually did the other day. It was a wonderful moment in my career as a peacekeeper, mayor, or president. You want to know what happened?"

If Demica was smart, she would have noticed the boredom and skeptical moods of the Gamemakers. She doesn't.

"A teenage boy was walking through the streets. I was tailing him because he looked suspicious. In fact, I was right! I saw him snatch up a loaf of bread and run! I told him, 'Stop right there! Thief, thief!' And he did. I was awarded a medal you know, and I-"

"Your time is up Miss Ford. Leave. Now."

"But I haven't showed you any-"

"If you'd spent less time talking, you would've." The Gamemaker seems amused.

Demica huffs and leaves the room.

Demica: 1

Sienna tentatively walks in, shoulders hunched, back tilted forward. She moves to the center of the room and stands still, looking the head Gamemaker square in the eye.

"Name? District?" The head stares right back.

Sienna gives an inward sigh and points to her mouth. Then she parts her lips and sticks out her half-inch long tongue. It barely protrudes out of her mouth.

"Right," The Gamemaker concedes. "You're Aria? No, Sienna." She corrects herself as Sienna shakes her head and then nods.

Without waiting for other words, Sienna heads to camouflage. She spends the entire time painting herself into a wall, and is satisfied with the gasps and murmurs that come when she disappears.

"You may leave."

Sienna walks out. Take that Atlas. She managed the first part of the Hunger Games without a tongue.

Sienna: 7.

Aria cracks her knuckles. She stretches left, then right. She ignores the twenty plus pairs of eyes trained on her. She moves into a tree pose and breathes deep, yoga fire breaths.

One, two, three.

Her eyes snap open, and she smiles. "Aria, District Six." And she is ready.

Her entire body flings itself to the maces. She has been waiting for this. After secretly testing her abilities when no one was paying much attention, she found that the mace worked for her. Quite well, actually.

"A trainer please," She shakes the hair from her eyes. "Medium level."

A young woman comes out, grins, and extends her hand. Aria shakes, and they begin.

Aria slashes and dodges. She isn't powerful, but the trainer isn't quick. After seven fast and furious minutes of fighting, the instructor manages to disarm Aria. Aria shrugs and stands, unperturbed.

Oh well. It's not like she sucked.

Aria: 7

**Hey y'all! Merry almost Christmas and Happy Hanukah! I hope you enjoyed this chapter. I'm still looking for PMs about your favorite characters, who you want to see interviewed, and who you want to see make it farther in the games. Please, please do, or else your favorite tributes might die in the bloodbath, and your least favorite tribute will make it to the final eight. **

**Questions:**

**1) Who do you want to see interviewed (I'm only doing twelve or so)?**

**2) Who do you want to see make it far in the games?**

**3) Questions? Comments? Ideas? Critics?**

**Thanks for being the best!**

**xoxo**

**Julia**


	22. Chapter 22: District 7 Private Sessions

Ivy strolls in, seemingly carefree and alight with nonchalance. Inside, however, she is seething. This is sick. Awful. Terrible. At least she has an ally who thinks the same way. Zea, the girl from Nine.

Ivy decides that she is going to peacefully protest. Being a bookworm, she's read about such things. How men and women alike, ages ago, stood up the government and refused to give in to unjust treatment by launching a peaceful protest.

Ivy walks to the center, sits down, crosses her arms, and glares. She can be awfully stubborn when she wants to be, and this is one of those times.

"I don't have any skills worth showing you." She looks them in the eye.

The Gamemakers just stare at her, shocked. Ivy smirks. "I have a quiz today, remember? Take me there, and then I'll grace you with my outstanding abilities."

The head speaks up, recovering from the strange turn of events. "Don't defy us girl. Show us what you can do, or it's a zero for you."

"I thought you'd give me a twelve! You know, to target me?" Ivy puts her hands on her hips.

"No. It would be a zero, so no person right in the mind would sponsor you." The Gamemaker shoots back.

"Fine." Ivy gets up and leaves.

Ivy: 0 (the first in Hunger Games history)

Grover walks in, charade of being weak and helpless dropped completely. He flashes a grin, equal to any careers, and moves to the axes.

With a flourish, he removes two and throws them, not with the confidence and accuracy of a career, but enough to get him a fair score. The first axe cuts of the dummy's head, while the second hits the dummy in the leg.

Unsatisfied, he grabs two more, and throws them again. One hits the dummy's heart, and the other hits the dummy's arm. Grover smiles, looking happy with himself. He then moves to the berry station, and begins sorting through the berries.

After a couple of minutes, he presses the button to grade himself, and his smile slides off his face when he sees he got seven pairs mixed up. That could kill him in the arena.

Embarrassed, and as a boy who gives up easily, Grover mumbles something about needed to go do something and being finished with his showcase of skills. The Gamemakers look to each other as he moves out, wondering how to grade the boy with terrible nature but fair weapon skills.

Grover: 7.

Hazel marches in, ready. She's been waiting for this. If only she had been accepted into the careers. But no. They rejected her with laughs and not so much as a backwards glance.

"Hazel, District Seven."

Her vicious side takes over, and she wants to hurt the careers, the Capitol, and anything that gets in her way. Anger consumed her body, burning it to a streak of red rage. With a chilling cry, Hazel scaled the ropes and threw axes all across the room.

One, hits the target. Two, hits the rock wall. Three, hits the force field. Four, hits the tree at the camouflage station. Five, hits the rocks at the snare station. Six, falls into the water at the swimming station.

Seven, it drops, and she jumps, catches it, and lands with it in her hand. Hazel grins gaudily, baring her teeth.

As she walks out of the room, she throws the axe, and with a lurching noise, it hits the dummy.

Straight in the heart.

Hazel: 9.

Olivia dances in. Pointed step, pointed step, leap, twirl. Pointed step, pointed step, leap, twirl.

She whispers her name and district, focusing not on the Gamemakers, but on the pictures of butterflies and berries at the venomous station.

"Oliva. Of District Seven."

She glides to the ropes and swings from it, flipping herself over, gracefully, with the skill and agility of an acrobat. Her eyes close, and she reaches for the ceiling, spins like a top in the broad expanse of pure air, and falls, daintily, beautifully.

It isn't survival, but it is beautiful. On the floor, she performs a series of gymnastics, doing cartwheels, somersaults, handsprings, and flips in the air.

She walks along the fallen tree like it is a balance beam, and grips in with her hands, rather than her feet, and spreads her legs. Her flexible back leans towards the ground, and then allows her to spring up and land on her feet.

Olivia smiles and walks out. She hasn't had the area to practice all of that in years. At least if she dies, she'll have done that.

Olivia: 6

**Hi! Thanks for reading and telling me which tributes you'd like to see interviewed. I could always use more suggestions for that of course. Remember to tell me your favorites, who you want to see ally with who, and who you want out of the picture right away. Next chapter is District 8 Training Sessions, which means Mint, Auri, Indigo, and Velvet. Please review and PM me your ideas.**

**Thanks for being the best!**

**xoxo**

**Julia**


	23. Chapter 23: District 8 Private Sessions

Indigo walks in. She isn't worried about herself. Rather, she is consumed with grief for Mint and her sister, Aurabelle, or Auri, as she was introduced as. Mint, poor Mint, who obviously knows what's going on, and is terrified at the prospect. And her sister, who is doing her best to shield Mint from the cruel facts of the matter.

They didn't deserve this. No one deserved this. Except Velvet. He could die painfully. At her hands, for all she cared.

Indigo brushes back her black locks, and starts the routine she had planned out.

She moved to the camouflage. Mint had especially loved this station, she remembered. It allowed her to experience a simple pleasure: Art.

Mint had painted herself completely pink, and Auri had just about died laughing. The girl from ten and the music addict from twelve had giggled as well. It brought looks from all around the training room, careers glaring, other tributes bemused about why anyone would laugh in the days leading up to the Hunger Games.

It broke Indigo's heart, and the paint on her face was broken by a tear track. Indigo knew she loved Mint like a sister, and she tried so hard to block out that fact. If they were the last ones left, Indigo would gladly die for her, but if Mint died, Indigo would lose her will to live, knowing that she had survived and caused the small girl to die.

Indigo shook her head and tried to block Mint's thin face from her memory. It wouldn't help her now, and Indigo sensed that Auri wasn't a fan of hers. There was no way she'd be able to become allies with them.

Indigo stands up and moves to the pretend stream. She lies down and disappears. That's her favorite part. Disappearing. No one knows where she went, and she basks in their gasps of wonder.

Once the wonder has been achieved, Indigo stands, drops and curtsy, and leaves, thoughts of the tributes, mainly Mint and Auri, consuming her once more.

Indigo: 6

Velvet struts in. Nothing troubling is on his mind. He is excited that the careers see him as their equal. He feels no twinge of guilt at the initiation they required him to do: beating up a lesser tribute.

Mint is crazy. She is odd, useless, and embarrassing to District Eight. It was only natural that he decided to hurt her. It was even fun.

Yes, Velvet will fit in perfectly with the career pack.

"Hey there," Velvet lets his trademark arrogant smirk slide onto his face. He musses his fiery-red curls and grins. "I'm Velvet, from District Eight, career, leader, victor."

As he launches into a sword fight, thoughts of his girlfriend fill his mind. They are a secret, as their families and friends would kill them if they knew what was going on. She was the only one who could make Velvet be brought back down off of his pedestal.

But he knew they were going to break up.

After all, he was going to murder Mint and Auri in the games, or he certainly wasn't going to protect them. She would never forgive him for that.

Auri was Velvet's girlfriend's best friend, and Auri had taken her place. Mint was like his girlfriend's little sister. She would kill him if he didn't protect her.

Lace would kill him.

Velvet leaps and twists his sword, disarming his opponent. Sweat beaded down his brow, and Velvet walked out of the room, thoughts of victory and killing turning, for the last time, to home, Lace, and guilt.

Velvet: 10.

**Auri's POV**

I walk in. Nervous.

None of this was ever supposed to happen, and how should I be able to concentrate when Velvet's on the warpath and Mint is sitting out there, all alone. I can only hope that one of the boys or girls was decent enough to hold her and talk to her.

But to focus on me, I have no skills. I suppose I can climb and sort berries, but really. I'm not going to get above a five for that. But its' not like I have any choice.

The Gamemakers are watching me, like they want me to say something, but I ignore it and get started.

I sort through the berries in two minutes. Each one that rolls between my fingers builds up a sense of longing and sadness, for home, my mother, my sisters, but especially my father. Without him, Mint and I wouldn't know anything about survival.

Mint. She is going to stop me from getting anything from the cornucopia. With her, I won't be nimble and quick. She doesn't have a wheelchair, and I'm not strong enough to carry her. I almost wish she didn't have the disabilities she does and that-

No. No, no, no. I love Mint just the way she is. With a flourish, I press the button that will judge me. While the screen says calculating, I pick up a handful of "safe" berries, and gobble them down. If I got one wrong, I'll be dead before I hit the floor.

It's a risk, but I'm hoping that the Gamemakers will find my stunt daring and brave, therefore raising my score. At least a little bit?

When I don't hit the floor, relief courses through my body, and I shakily make my way to the rock wall.

I scale it in ten seconds flat; It was an easy feat. From the top of the wall, I leap onto the ropes, and hop around for awhile, get to the end, and dive into the deep pool.

Trying to conceal the fact that I can't swim, I gracefully flail around, and eventually reach the edge, no water in my lungs.

Just then, I remember what the Gamemakers probably wanted of me.

Dripping with water, having berry juice all over my chin, I turn and smile.

"Aurabelle Sae, of District Eight. Thanks for watching. Sponsor gifts appreciated. Buh-bye now!"

With as much grace and beauty I can muster, I saunter out of that room, but as soon as the door closes behind me, I sprint to the elevator, press floor eight, hop in, get to the apartment, ignore looks from Indigo, Damask, Jute, Tia, and Velvet, and begin to pace the floor, wondering how Mint will get back.

I have to be here, or they'll kill us both.

Auri: 7

**Mint POV**

I'm descending into dreamland, in the lap of the girl, Harmony, who keeps singing the lullaby I like.

Just then, I feel the sharp jab of a Capitol man's finger, and my eyes snap open.

He beckons me, but I don't want to go. I want to see Auri and go home.

I look up at Harmony, hoping she'll say the words I can't, and help me get out of this.

Instead, she smiles, and says the first words I've ever heard come out of her mouth.

"Mint, go with him. It'll be fine. When you come out of that room, you can see Auri."

Her voice is underwater in my head, but I relent and fall forward.

The Capitol man catches me and then drags me by the hair into the training room.

I can only see Harmony's tearful face through the blur of pain and by high-pitched shrieks.

The man deposits me in the middle of the training room. I sit up for a minute, sway, and fall forward.

I look up just enough to see a large panel of judges. Or Gamemakers.

One looks at me too, and then says, "No need for introductions. Mint of District Eight, show us what you can do."

It takes me around seven minutes to drag myself to the camouflage station.

I prop myself up on the table with paints, and wildly reach for the pink.

I paint my right hand, my foot, and my left arm, but then I feel a strong grip encircle my shoulder.

I scream and kick, thinking they mean to kill me because I didn't do a good job, but instead, the rough grip pulls me outside of the room.

I guess I'm done.

I see what looks like an elevator, and the man throws me inside, presses eight, and I go up and up and up, sobbing the while.

The doors open, and I hear a shriek.

Auri's shriek.

I smile through my tears and lift up my arms.

Auri picks me up, takes me to a soft, warm place, and I descend into dreamland once more.

**I hope you enjoyed this chapter! We're almost to the Games y'all! I've worked out who's allying with who, and who is being interviewed, but as I keep coming out with training sessions, it's never to late to send in your preferences for both topics. **

**1) Who do you like most out of the District Eight tributes?**

**2) Who do you like the least?**

**3) What do you think of Velvet and Lace's relationship?**

**4) Questions? Comments? Critics?**

**Thanks for being the best!**

**xoxo**

**Julia**


	24. Not a Chapter

**I'm so so sorry! I just realized that I completely forgot to write in Mint's training score. So to those of you who asked, and to everyone else, Mint score a two. **

**She only got a two because the Gamemakers knew that her sister would die for her and fight to protect her, so her odds of surviving were slightly increased. **

**Anyways, I'm sorry! Hope this helped. **

**-Julia**


	25. Chapter 25: District 9 Private Sessions

Ceres struts in. It took her a while to decide what to do during her private session, but eventually, she came up with an idea.

She stands center stage, feet shoulder-width apart, hands on her hips.

"I'm Ceres. From District Nine." She smiles and winks. The men in the audience are positively drooling. Ceres revels in it.

She takes off the jacket and sweats she snagged from her small house-sized closet. Below it, she is wearing a tight, tight, tight crop top that stops three inches above her bellybutton and tight, tight, tight booty shorts.

Then she stands there, occasionally turning to the left or right or all the way around, flipping her silken hair, and flashing seductive smiles at the people.

When the clock reads that her time is up, she walks out, hips swaying left, then right, then left, then right, creating a hypnotizing movement.

Oh gosh. What fun that was.

Too bad Omri, her crush for at least a century, wasn't here to see it. He was the only boy she really liked, even loved, but he never noticed her.

Ceres: 9.

Omri shuffles in. This is stupid. All of this is stupid. Why did he need to be taken from his home, sisters, brothers, mother, and father? He was a good worker. What did he do to deserve this?

But there is no way that he's going to let the Gamemakers know that. They would kill him right away.

"I am Omri. I am from District Nine." Omri bobs his head and looks to the ground. He doesn't really have any skills.

With nothing to lose, Omri plods over to the axes. He throws a couple, one hitting the hand, one missing the dummy. He swallows a groan and trudges away, clutching his thick, dark curls in hand.

He arrives at the weights and decides he can't risk anything. Best to keep it boring but likely to impress the Gamemakers. They don't seem to be bothering to pay attention anyways. One man is trying to throw his chocolate truffles into his cup of wine. Two are chatting with each other, and none too quietly at that.

Omri sighs and ignores it. He drops into the zone, which he found when he was seven. Work back then was hard, and the load only increased as he got older. In his zone, he can lift any weight, ignore any pain, and turn his back on the heat and sweat soaking his skin.

He lifts light ones, and increases the load, almost robotically. Eventually, a voice breaks through his concentration.

"We've seen quite enough. You've been here for nearly twenty minutes!"

Omri stands, bobs his head, and tries not to sprint out.

Omri: 7

Zea scuttles in, nervous, afraid, and completely out of ideas. She doesn't want to be boring, she doesn't want to get a low score, she doesn't want to get too high of a score, she doesn't want to embarrass herself.

With those rules in place, she can do basically nothing.

So, she wings it, first heading to the berries, only missing two. But on purpose. All on purpose, just so she won't be targeted.

With a sigh, she moves to the ropes. She moves easily and nimbly over the course, but tries to avoid acting like she is pretty much a professional. All on purpose, just so she won't be targeted.

Sleepy and done with the whole thing, Zea decides to try the bows. She shot them a couple times in training, and got pretty good at it. She shoots five times, and two of the shots miss, two hit a non-fatal part of the body, and only one hits its mark. All on purpose, just so she won't be targeted.

Zea knows what she's afraid of. She's been keeping a low profile, because if she upsets the careers, they will hurt her. They will catch her and torture her. So she will bend to their will, not wanting to upset them.

Zea gives a slight bow and walks out. Those drunk Gamemakers don't even notice she leaves.

Zea: 5

Sunnoria is last of the District Nine tributes. She bounds in, desperately wanting to score above a seven, giving her four year-old brother and Rye hope, and upsetting Gwenith, the girl who made her get to this place.

The Gamemakers love weapons, blood, bold and daring stunts, and sass. But not too much sass. Sunnoria will give them that. She doesn't have looks to work with, but she happens to be fairly good at changing identities.

"I'm Sunnoria, here from District Nine and ready to wake you up from that drunken stupor." Too much sass? Hopefully, no.

The Gamemakers shift and look towards this change of pace.

Sunnoria smiles, and is happy with the reaction. Curiosity is always a start. She has trained hard, opting to skip lunch and train instead. Sunnoria knows she is a quick learner, and she had learnt everything about the knives during training.

When she throws them, each one hits the target, head, shoulder, heart, stomach. She ducks behind the camouflage station and throws them, head, arm, arm, stomach, leg. She climbs the rope course and throws them, head, leg, foot, hand, heart.

She flips from the rope course and lands nearly perfectly on her feet.

"Ta-da!" But Sunnoria knows it isn't enough, and she knows what the Gamemakers want to see.

Blood.

So she goes to the dummy and takes out a sharp knife, one with a curve in the blade.

"This is Monique." A random name pops into her head. She doesn't know why she used it, she just knows that the girl is a career. Sunnoria has nothing against Monique in particular.

She proceeds to cut, almost daintily, the dummy's face, then its hands, arms, legs, feet, back. When blood is gushing out onto the floor and completely covering her, Sunnoria sharply jabs the dummy in the stomach.

This is sick.

Mustering the few drops of sass that linger, Sunnoria pops her hip, places a blood-tarnished hand upon it, and cocks her head.

"Done, losers."

Then she walks out, ready to drown herself in the showers for acting like such a career.

Sunnoria: 10

**Hi readers! I bet you thought I completely abandoned you. No chance. I've been on vacation and it was Christmas, so I ended up being slightly busy. I for one cannot wait to get done with these sessions. It's a bit boring writing them, but I don't know if it's boring to read them. Tell me in reviews what you want me to do!**

**Questions for you:**

**!. Favorite out of these? Why?**

**2. Least favorite? Why?**

**3. Should I keep writing the sessions?**

**4. Ideas for the arena, such as alliances, mutts, etc.**

**5. Who do you want to see interviewed?**

**Got a lot of questions, sorry about not updating sooner, and thanks for being the best!**

**xoxo**

**Julia**


	26. Chapter 26: District 10 Private Sessions

Eve is in full-blown panic mode. The only person there for her is Gael, and no offence Gael, but he's probably going to die in the bloodbath. Mint and Auri showed some liking for her, but Mint makes her nervous, and Auri will be with her the entire games.

She tiptoes in, and nearly throws up at the sight of a mutilated dummy. Awful, blood, skin, Games.

She composes herself best she can, and walks to the ropes. Spark and Lanni and herself had been practicing the ropes. They formed an alliance. None of them thought they could make it very far, but together, with Lanni's brain, Eve's weapon skills, and Spark's nimbleness, they at least had a chance.

Wait. That's right! Eve has weapon skills! Eve, now ready, runs to the center of the room.

"Eve, District 10." She then runs to the slingshots. Not much, but she can shoot knives as well.

She picks one up, and test the string. It bounces back, rubber, springy, and ready for use. She inserts a pellet, made especially for this purpose, and lets the string go. The pellet sticks on the target in the heart.

Eve excitedly turns to the Gamemakers. Not one of them appears to be watching. All are drunk and bored, laughing and clapping one another on the back.

Eve rolls her eyes. Gone is the scared and helpless girl that stood alone on the stage. She doesn't need anyone. Not at all. Spark and Lanni were assets, friends, but not protectors. Gael, well, he wasn't her brother, and at this rate, he would get himself killed faster than anyone thought possible.

Eve shoots knives by slingshot, hitting targets, stations, a forcefield that she didn't know was there.

A boom resonates through the room, and the knife that hit the field clatters to the floor. The Gamemakers look up, and with satisfaction, Eve notices the way their eyes move to every knife, pellet, and dart that Eve shot.

"May I leave?" She's still cute and sweet, but inside, she has become a threat. To everyone.

A nod of assent frees her, and she skips off, giddy with success.

Eve: 8.

Gael walks in. He's worried about Eve. The poor little girl won't last a minute in the Games. He tried to talk to her and sit with her and give her words of comfort every moment possible, but she ignored him.

He decided she was probably nervous about the Games.

"Gael, District 10." He says monotonously. The Gamemakers seem a little more awake than he would have guess. He, after all, is the thirty-eighth tribute in a line of forty-eight. He doesn't envy the last District 12 candidate.

He makes his way to the camouflage station. The paints stand before him, each one different. He picks up and brush and twirls it around, contemplating his choices.

He could turn into a river, simply by picking the cool, misty color of the first morning light. He could transform himself into a tree, with the dark, brooding color of the smell of burning wood. He could be a bush, with the five colors of winter, ice, snow, sun, clouds, and evergreen tree; the shades of green.

Gael picks up a brush and swirls it in the mist. With slow, deliberate strokes, Gael becomes a river. He closes his eyes, and then he stands.

Knowing his only other strengths, he heads to the medical station. There, he sews up multiple wounds.

Soft as a girl, his father said. Like my daughter, his mother said. We don't mind his friends would say, if he had any. Gael's hobbies, which, coincidentally, were also his strengths, didn't make him popular among boys.

He likes to sew, paint, take care of children, and cook. Many make fun of him for that, but Gael is aware that those skills could make him reach the top in the Games.

He turns to face the Gamemakers, hopeful. He didn't do too badly.

He hopes.

Gael: 6

Merona walks in, slowly. She still isn't sure what she's doing here. She got dressed this morning, ate like she was told to, trained again like she was told to. But now she's supposed to train by herself? She will get some answers.

When she reaches the center, she opens her mouth and begins.

"I'm Merona. From District Ten. I'm really confused, and I have no idea what is going on. Am I going home soon? Is this a contest? Why do we need to know how to use weapons? Please give me some answers!"

She finishes, hands spread out in front of her. Instead of getting straight and good answers, mocking laughter fills her ears. It's red taint spreads to her cheeks. What did she do wrong?

"You don't know why you're here? Still? My God, the ones from ten really are stupid!"

"Well honey," The next man speaks loudly, slowly, and clearly. "You," He points at Merona. "Are going to fight," He punches the air a few times. "The other tributes," He points to random people around the room. "To the death," He mimes dying. "And you," He points to her again. "Will only go home," He makes a house with his hands. "If you kill," He pretends to kill the woman next to him. "And are the last one alive." He pretends to look victorious.

Merona feels panic creep in. What? No! Never see her brothers again? Die? This is the fight to the death that happens every year? That's why her parents and brothers were sobbing when they visited her? No one told her it was called the Hunger Games!

She screams and punches the punching bag nearest to her. It falls off its hook, due to the extreme force of her fist.

Then she tackles a peacekeeper and knocks him out cold. She tries to stab him, grabbing a sword.

"Kill or die! Kill or die!" She screams loudly, clearly misinterpreting the whole thing.

Before she can slice open the man before her, she feels a shiver run down her spine, and she is swallowed, the black spots invade her vision and she is falling, falling, falling.

Merona: 3.

Carlotta stumbles in. She has embraced her role as the clumsy oaf from District Ten. It's just so fun being someone you aren't!

She runs to the middle of the room, but purposefully trips, landing flat on her face. She lets out a giggle and then gets up.

"Whoopsie-daisy!" She smiles. "Ain't I's just the clumsietist girl you's ever saw?"

The Gamemakers raise their eyebrows, and Carlotta smiles inwardly as well as outwardly.

"Well's, anyways, I's Carlotta. I's live in District Ten, the place where's you's gettin' y'all's lee-vee-stook." She pretends to looks pleased with herself, after sounding out that 'hard' word.

Carlotta moves to the berries. In truth, she knows their latin names, their origin, their composition, their growth compatibility. But she is the stupid Carlotta. Not the smart, genius Carlotta. So when she sorts them, she makes sure to get only one berry right.

She eats that one berry and smiles at the Gamemakers when she doesn't die.

"See's there! Didn't I's bin tellin' ya I's a smart peerson? I's gotchall da berries right der didnch I?"

Her score flashes on the screen. A three.

Carlotta pretends to let her smile wilter. "Oopsies! Guesses I atin the rights berries den! Ain't I lucky?"

She heads to the knots. When she's smart Carlotta, she could make three hundred seventy-three different knots, knowing what each one was meant for, who invented it, and when it was first used. As stupid Carlotta, all she pretends to see is a bunch of rope.

"Lookie here!" Carlotta takes the ropes and ties it all up. Then she hangs the tangled rope from a tree, grabs a dummy, and tries to hang it. Instead, the dummy falls, and along with it, the rope.

"Well, I's guessin' dat everyone's makin' mistakes den, I's tinkin', beciz it's hardy-doo-day, rights?"

No one responds. Carlotta gives an audible sigh. She can barely contain her snort of laughter. She may die in the Games, but this is the best fun she's ever had. Ever.

"Well's, I's guessin' I's has to goin' now, but I's knowin' you's not wantin' me to, sos I's gonna stays for District Eleven den, okie dokie?"

The Gamemakers look at eachother, and the head eventually flicks his fingers. A peacekeeper escorts her out.

"Bye's! I's gonna catches up wis y'alls later den? Okie, okie, dokie, dokie!"

The Gamemakers are thoroughly confused when they hear her snort of laughter.

Carlotta: 2

**0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0o0**

**Hi! So I'm done writing the private sessions, so I'm just going to update them, because if I didn't, then it would be just a bunch of work deleted! So, questions:**

**1. Favorite? Why?**

**2. Least favorite? Why?**

**3. Who do you want interviewed?**

**4. Who do you want allied with who?**

**Thanks for your reviews and views! Viewing is great, but I love, love, love reviews! Those make my day. So, thanks a lot for those, and thanks for being the best!**

**xoxo**

**Julia**


	27. I'm Sorry

Hi!

People of fan fiction, who are really nice and amazing, I'm really sorry to say that I'm no longer going to be on this website. It's been fun, but it's also been interfering with my school work and music. I won't be continuing this story, and I'm really sorry. I hope that you won't mind too much.

However, if you are interested in taking over this story, I would love for you to. This is my last day on this site, so please PM me if you want to take it over. In return, I will PM you with alliances, interviews, deaths, terrain, etc. Then, I will announce who's writing the rest, and y'all who have been following this story can go follow them.

Their story will begin with district 11 private sessions and continue all the way to the victory.

I'm so so so so so so so so sorry, and I know some of you have told me not to abandon this fanfic. I'd like to give a special thanks to Known777. She's super awesome and cool, and she's been my best friend on this site. Y'all should go check her story out.

Another thanks to GruncleElliot, RAINBOWSNEMESIS and Lya200. They've been there since the beginning, and GruncleElliot even supplied the idea for the arena.

Thanks to everyone else who read, reviewed, followed, and favorited my story. It all means so much to me.

So goodbye everyone and have a great 2015. And if it's your birthday, happy birthday!

Thanks for being the best!

xoxo

Julia


	28. Have a Happy Year!

Hello!

This will be, I believe, my last update on this story. :(

I'd like to announce that ownership of this story is officially being transferred to heartsofhearts123. I think you'll like their writing, as I've given them very detailed instructions on the story.

(no pressure here) But if you have suggestions about their writing, please PM me. I'll take into consideration your notes and reflections. I hope that you aren't too mad at me for leaving so abruptly.

Known777, I'd like to PM with you, so whenever you have a chance, feel free.

Thank you and have a great year.

Julia


	29. A bit of help

Okay, I promise this is my last chapter! XD

So I've gotten a few PMs from people saying that you're having trouble finding heartsofhearts123. So, here's a solution.

Instead of typing in their name, type in their story.

It's called Blue in the Midnight Dusk.

It will come up.

And then you can click on the authors name and read the rest of my story.

So. No more updates from me. Love you all and thanks for sticking with me.

xoxo

Julia


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